Very coolly Clubfoot flicked the ash off his cigar.
"Quite, quite!" he observed carelessly. "But for the time being, my friend, let us not forget that you have to forgo that protection. An Engländer in the hand is worth two light cruisers in the Pacific. You take me?"
With his cigar thrust out at a defiant angle from his mouth, he planked his hairy hands palms downwards on his knees.
"I'll put the situation quite plainly before you!" he said. "You're in grave danger, Okewood. I've a rough lot of shipmates and they've got the treasure fever in their blood. My German companions have no liking for their dear English cousins. We have some survivors of von Spee's squadron; they are absurdly prejudiced against you and your race. The brother of the gentleman who wrote that message in your pocket is with me. He was an officer of the Gneisenau sunk by your Admiral Sturdee at the Falkland Islands...."
There came into my mind the picture of that blonde youth as I had seen him in the storm standing with bowed head at the grave.
"....We have the bo'sun of the Nürnberg, her sister vessel, and a couple of Blaujacken of the Dresden who swam ashore after your Navy destroyed their ship off Juan Fernandez, besides various army veterans from France. And, my dear Okewood, I need scarcely tell you that, after the Somme and the Hindenburg Line, our brave 'eighty-fivers' dislike you British even as much as our sailormen do...."
A little tremor ran through me. My hands were shaking with excitement behind my head.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"You must let me take my hands down, Herr Doktor," I said.
He glanced sharply at me, then picked up his pistol.