"Strike—me—sky-blue!" exclaimed the old man, and Slyne held up a reproving hand.
"I can do with a good deal less of your bad language into the bargain," he mentioned coldly, "if you don't mind. In short, I want you to understand from the start that you've got to behave as if you were a reasonable human being and not a dangerous lunatic, or—I'll leave you to rot, in the hole you've got yourself into."
Captain Dove, scarcely able to credit the evidence of his own ears but, none the less, apparently, thinking hard, darted a very ugly glance at him, and noticed the diamonds in his shirt-front. Under the strongest temptation to call in a couple of deck-hands and have him thrown off the ship, Captain Dove obviously paused to consider whether those could be of any intrinsic value. He was, of course, satisfied that he knew exactly how much—or, rather, how little money Slyne had had in his pockets when he went ashore. And, if Slyne had already, within four and twenty hours, been able to turn that over at a profit sufficient to provide himself with a fur coat and diamonds, it might perhaps pay Captain Dove to hear what he had to propose. Slyne, reading all the old man's thoughts, could see that he had decided to temporise.
"But, I can do with a damn sight less of your back-chat!" rumbled Captain Dove, not to be put down without protest. "If you've come back on board to offer me a founder's share in any new gold-brick factory, fire straight ahead—and be short about it. It'll save time, too, if you'll take it from me again that I'd rather have your room than your company."
And at that, Slyne made his next considered move.
"All right," he said in a tone of the most utter contempt. "That's enough. I'm off.
"I came back to do you a good turn—although few men, in my position, would ever have looked near you again," he paused in the doorway to remark acridly. "But I can see now what's the matter with you—and I only wish I had noticed it in time to save myself all it has cost me. It's senile decay you're suffering from. You're far too old to be of any more use—even to yourself. You're in your dotage, and you'll soon be in an asylum—for pauper lunatics!"
He had evidently lost his own temper at last. And Captain Dove was visibly pleased with that result of his tactics; as a rule he was better able to cope with Slyne on a basis of mutual abuse, heated on both sides; Slyne cool and collected had him at a disadvantage.
"Now you're talking!" he retorted approvingly. "Say what's in your mind, straightforwardly, and we'll soon come to an understanding. Sit down again, you strutting peacock! and tell me what it is you want."
Slyne did not sit down again, however; to do so would scarcely have been dignified. He stayed in the doorway, silent, a thin stream of cigarette-smoke slowly filtering from his nostrils. His cold, calculating eyes were once more on Captain Dove's. And it was Captain Dove's would-be mocking glance that at length gave way.