“You see,” Pepster went on, “I have a warrant for his arrest, and if you continue to conceal him you are interfering with the law, always a rather dangerous proceeding.”
“Your little lecture is interesting,” Thoyne replied carelessly, “but doesn’t apply. You see, I am an American citizen and your law doesn’t interest me. This ship sails under the Stars and Stripes, you know, and you daren’t forcibly seize anyone from under that flag. No, don’t get angry—it won’t pay you. I have a dozen men on board who will obey my lifted finger. If I told them to pitch you into the water, into the water you would go.”
He turned his back on us and leaning his elbows on the brightly polished rail, gazed down into the cool, green depths of the water that was lap-lapping idly against the sides of the vessel.
“But I am not angry,” Pepster explained, “only interested. Is that your case—that Tulmin is aboard the vessel, but that I dare not take him off an American ship? If that is so—”
“Don’t be a damned fool!” Thoyne retorted roughly, facing us again.
“I won’t—more than I can help,” Pepster responded mildly.
“Well, anyway, you can search the yacht,” Thoyne went on. “Tulmin isn’t here—I know nothing of him.”
He took a whistle from his pocket and blew a shrill note which was answered almost simultaneously by a sprightly youth, who must have been waiting near at hand, so rapid was his appearance.
“Bender, take this gentleman over the yacht and show him everything—everything, damn you!”