The prisoner's face changed colour, but he tried to bluster out a denial.
"I—I haven't touched the box," he said.
"Then it's rather strange that your jacket should be smeared with white paint. You see, my bunk was re-painted only this——"
The Captain's remark was cut short, for the German suddenly sprang to his feet and aimed a terrific blow at him with a short, pointed sheath-knife. Calamity was just in time to avoid the weapon, which struck the table with such force that the point snapped off, while the would-be murderer stumbled forward under the impetus of the stroke. Before he could recover himself, the Captain had seized him by the throat, at the same time calling for Sing-hi.
"The irons out of my drawer," he said when the Chinaman appeared.
Sing-hi opened a drawer, took therefrom a pair of handcuffs and slipped them over the prisoner's wrists.
"You'd better lock the fellow in your pantry for the time being," said Calamity as he went out.
The same night Mr. Fritz Siemann—that is to say, his mortal remains—was lowered into the sea, sewed up in a canvas bag. And, inside that bag, besides the firebars used as sinkers, was the thousand pounds in notes.
Captain Calamity was not the man to break his word.