“I am the Tiger.”
The girl looked him over contemptuously.
“I’ll believe that—when tigers look like rats.”
“You’ll see,” he answered, and looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I must leave you now. The cargo’s nearly all aboard, and we’ll be sailing right away. I hope you didn’t hit Maggs too hard.”
“Not hard enough, I’m afraid,” she said calmly. “I’m afraid he’ll live.”
He shrugged.
“The second mate can navigate, though he hasn’t a ticket, and Maggs will revive later. Au revoir—Patricia.”
In a moment she was alone, and she heard the key turn in the lock and his footsteps receding towards the companion.
She had no means of telling the time, for she had left her watch in the Pill Box. She spent a little while searching for a weapon, but she did not expect that he would have overlooked anything like that, and was not surprised when she failed to find one. Then she turned her attention to the porthole, but the opening was far too small for her to squeeze through, slight as she was. And that was all about it—she was fairly trapped.
She sat down and coldly reviewed the situation.