All five sat down at the table, the two strangers with their backs to the fireplace, the three friends facing them, with their backs to the door. Dan did the talking, addressing himself to Basil's henchmen.
"These two good fellows," he said, "old shipmates of mine, have arranged this pleasant meeting at my request. I have heard somewhat of you, and learn that we are all greatly interested in a certain matter. If I just mention 'Indies,' 'Dons,' 'gold,' you will guess the run of my thoughts."
The strangers nodded, and settled themselves into an attitude of closer attention.
"There's a vessel in harbour almost ready to weigh anchor for the land of the setting sun. Her aim is treasure. I sail in her, and I am in the secret councils of her captain. Do you follow my thoughts?"
"Perfectly. You've some bold business on hand for dipping your hands deep into the spoil of the voyage, and you want a few bold blades at your back. Say no more. Get us aboard, and when you give the signal we're with you. To tell you the truth, we were planning some such scheme ourselves, but could see no chance of a berth on the vessel."
"I'm glad you're the stout fellows I took you to be. Now, don't be surprised at what I say next. I have more than one man's secrets locked in my bosom." Dan turned to Nick Johnson. "Just make sure there are no eavesdroppers," he said.
Nick looked out into the passage. "Not a mouse stirring."
"Then, whilst thou art on thy legs, fetch in some ale. Our new comrades would like to toast our enterprise."
Dan leaned back in silence whilst Nick did his errand. Healths were drunk without words—just a nod, as much as to say, "To you, my hearty!"
Dan leaned across the table. "A thin, wiry, sallow-faced man; black-haired, black-eyed, supple as an eel, cunning as a cat; a scholar and travelled gentleman, who might easily be a cut-throat; one who professes the old faith, and swears by the Pope—ye know him?"