"Where's your hand?"
Two hands found each other blindly and exchanged a firm and inspiring clasp--while Lanyard gave thanks for the night that saved his face from betraying his mind.
Another deep sigh sounded a note of apprehensions at an end. A gruff chuckle followed.
"Whit Monk! He'll learn something about the way to treat old friends." And all at once the mutter merged into a vindictive hiss: "Him with his airs and graces, his fine clothes and greasy manners, putting on the lah-de-dah over them that's stood by him when he hadn't a red and was glad to cadge drinks off spiggoties in hells like the Colonel's at Colon--him!"
But Lanyard had been listening only with his ears; he hadn't the slightest interest in Mr. Mussey's resentment of the affectations of Captain Monk. For now his mad scheme had suddenly assumed a complexion of comparative simplicity; given the co-operation of the chief engineer, all Lanyard would need to contribute would be a little headwork, a little physical exertion, a little daring--and complete indifference, which was both well warranted and already his, to abusing the confidence of Mr. Mussey.
"But about this affair to-morrow night," he interrupted impatiently: "attend to me a little, if you please, my friend. Can you give me any idea where we are, or will, approximately, at midnight to-night?"
"What's that go to do----?"
"Perhaps I ask only for my own information. But it may be that I have a plan. If we are to work together harmoniously, Mr. Mussey, you must learn to have a little confidence in me."
"Beg your pardon," said an humble mutter. "We ought to be somewhere off Nantucket Shoals Lightship."
"And the weather: have you sufficient acquaintance with these latitudes to foretell it, even roughly?"