He tried them in turn on his door lock, and finally found the one that fitted. This he took off the ring and secured with his own bunch of keys, placing the others—which he easily surmised belonged to all the locking doors in the boat—in another pocket. Then he lay back to finish his smoke. But Sampson opened his door, and interrupted.
"You'll excuse me, sir," he began, while Denman peered critically at him through the smoke. "But I suppose you know what we've just done?"
"Yes," he answered. "I could see a little and hear more. You've held up and robbed an oil steamer."
"And is it piracy, sir, in the old sense—a hanging matter if we're caught?"
"Hardly know," said Denman, after a moment's reflection. "Laws are repealed every now and then. Did you kill any one?"
"No, sir."
"Well, I judge that a pirate at sea is about on the same plane as a burglar on shore. If he kills any one while committing a felony, he is guilty of murder in the first degree. Better not kill any fellow men, then you'll only get a long term—perhaps for life—when you're nabbed."
"Thank you, Mr. Denman. They're talking big things on deck, but—there'll be no killing. Forsythe is something of a devil and will stop at nothing, but I'll—"
"Pardon me," said Denman, lazily, "he'll stop at me if you release me."
"Not yet, sir. It may be necessary, but at present we're thinking of ourselves."