Sloan touched his cap and withdrew.
"Good news!" said McTee amiably. "I'm mighty glad to hear it, captain."
The old man fell back into a chair, holding the precious piece of paper with its written lie in both trembling hands.
"Good news," he croaked. "Aye, McTee. You were right, lad! Those damned doctors don't know their business. They're making the case out bad so they'll get more credit for the cure. See how they're fooling with me— and me with my heart on fire in the middle of the sea!"
His eyes wandered strangely in the midst of his exultation.
"That would be a strange death, eh, McTee—to burn in the middle of the sea with a ship full of gold?"
The Scotchman shuddered.
"Forget that, man. You're not going to burn at sea. You're going to reach port with all your gold and you're going to stand beside Beatrice and say—"
Henshaw broke in: "And say, 'Beatrice, I've come to make you happy. We'll leave this country where the fogs are so thick and the sun never shines, and we'll go south, far south, where there's summer all the year.' That's what I'll say!"
"Right," nodded McTee. "If her lungs are weak, that's the place to take her."