“There is a big think for you to do,” he said. “You can all you vill.”
“Tell me,” she pleaded.
“You are in shipyard. This man Davidge goes on building ships. I gave him fair warning. I sinked one ship for him, but he makes more.”
“You sank his ship?” Mamise gasped.
“Sure! The Clara, he called her. I find where she goes to take cargo. I go myself. I row up behind the ship in little boat, and I fasten by the rudder-post under the water, where no one sees, a bomb. It is all innocent till ship moves. Then every time the rudder turns a little screw turns in the machine.
“It turns for two, three days; then––boom! It makes explosion, tears ship to pieces, and down she goes. And so goes all the next ships if you help again.”
“Again? What do you mean by again?”
“It is you, Marie Louise, who sinks the Clara.”
Her laugh of incredulity was hardly more than a shiver of dread.