Cartwright opened his mouth and stared at the admiral in surprise. Then he began to imagine he understood. Sir Richard Dunn had evidently been somewhere on the night of his disappearance which would not suit him to have known.
"Ah, I see," said Cartwright, with a subtle smile.
"I've my own notions as to the brand of justice dispensed in this State, Mr. Cartwright. It is considerably milder than the native liquors. I want your assistance in doing without the law, and in administering justice myself. Have you any notion of the gentleman who shipped me in the California?"
"It was probably a boarding-house master," said Cartwright.
"Of course."
"It might have been Sullivan, or the Sheeny, or Williams, or Smith."
"Is that the scoundrel they know here as Shanghai Smith?" asked the admiral.
And Cartwright nodded.
"The crew of the California put it down to him at once."
"I don't know that it was necessary him," said Cartwright pensively; "though he has the worst name, he's no worse than the others. For my own part, I reckon the Sheeny—he's a Jew boy, of course—is a deal tougher than Smith."