“There was no murder.” Drake laughed, again. “That was just his artistic touch. No fool, Cray. He knew you’d rise to it. But you worried him. He wanted to search every last cabin, but he also wanted to make the job hang out till the last moment, in case you might show a rush of brain to the head and get to suspecting him. Well, you did it as he planned, between you. Until, well, there were two of us left, Quayle and myself. Cray was getting scared by now. So, when he searched Quayle’s cabin yesterday, he planted the box that those diamonds had been in when he lifted them. Then he worked things so that you would find it, not him.”
“But why?”
Drake stared at him. What use going on like this? How could this man, who but half listened, understand, when even he saw some things but vaguely? You threw a straw into the water, then a dozen more. If one of them taught you anything of drift or eddy, you were content. When he spoke again his voice was crisp and incisive.
“That fight. A fake of Quayle and me, in case Cray suspected us of working together, as he did, eh? Just a precaution. It bothered him, as other things did, too. His problem was twofold. Those stories, you see; the wireless messages he was making up—they worked on him in the end, as well as on you. He almost believed them, believed that they might have some accidental truth in them. And, of course, he wanted his loot back. Safety and loot; two ends to gain. If you had it, it was as good as his, for he’s smooth and you—well, the thing’s plain, isn’t it? Notice how he gave in at the end? No gunplay. Clever men don’t go in for that. Amateurish, that sort of thing. Watch the papers later on and you’ll see how Cray fights through his mouthpiece. Good criminal lawyers are rich men.”
“But why all this?” the captain growled. “You knew in mid-Atlantic that he was your man. You had the stuff and could have nabbed him easily then and there.”
“In my game a man never stops learning,” Drake told him. “You may believe me, or not. Your ship said, ‘Hush.’ I wanted to make her talk, and Cray did it for me, eh? I wanted to see what he’d do and how he’d do it. A clever rogue he proved, but too imaginative.”
“So you raised hell with us, with me. Let me run round like a fool.”
The captain of the Cora bit his lip, for who was he, standing in a slippery place, to antagonize this detective. Drake looked at him pityingly for a moment.
“You’re worried. You’re saying, ‘Now Drake’ll begin on me.’ The answer is, of course, Drake won’t. I’ve known and the Yard’s known, for years. If we’d wanted to, we could fill a gaol with you and your like; but what’s it to us if now and then some petty thief gets away? Men like that Liverpool rat. It’s the big, fat, long whiskered, clever rats we’re after. When they come drifting along, flying the country, we know where to look.”
He turned toward the door.