“At any rate, it has not gone to Captain Warden,” was the acid reply.
“An’ you write ‘im. What you say?”
“Oh, nothing that affects the case.”
“You tole him me here?”
“No. That can wait,” which statement, as shall be seen, was strictly untrue.
“Well, den, dem yacht lib for—for somewheres to–morrow. Dem girl, Mees Dane, go wid me. You tole him dat t’ing as you say las’ night. I make wife palaver to dem girl.”
“What good will that do?” she said. “In a week, ten days, he will hear from her again.”
“No. I take dem letter. You gib me Captain Warden writin’, an’ I keep eye for dat. Savvy?”
“But can you carry out what you promised?”
“Two, t’ree months, yes. After dem yacht lib for Madeira, no. P’raps dem girl be wife den.”