"He isn't the sort of lawyer you've been accustomed to, Dove," said Slyne. "You've got to go to him."
Captain Dove did his best to out-stare him, but failed.
"And what's more," said Slyne, playing a trump card with great outward indifference, "you can make him pay you for your time instead of you paying him. I told you I came back here to do you a good turn. There's more than a hundred thousand dollars of easy money for you in this deal—if you go the right way about it.
"But—don't take my word for anything."
Captain Dove had palpable difficulty in suppressing the obvious repartee to that last bit of advice. But cupidity and cunning kept him quiet for a space.
"All right. I'll go with you," he agreed very gruffly at last. And Slyne heaved a silent sigh of relief; he had feared more than once that the contest of wills would after all go against him.
"You're wise," he commented carelessly. "It will pay you.
"You'd better see Sallie now, don't you think, and tell her—"
"I'm not going to interfere between you and her—till I get my money from you," declared the old man with a crafty grin. "You must tackle her yourself. She'll be up by now, but breakfast won't be ready for half an hour. If I were you I'd take that coat off and let her have a sight of those diamonds of yours."
Slyne did not wait to hear any more. He was already on his way aft, a somewhat incongruous figure on the decks of the Olive Branch. When he reached the companion-hatch on the poop he was smiling sardonically.