“Gentlemen,” said Melun, almost politely, “I expect you feel that some explanation is due from me.”
The majority of the men nodded in a surly way.
“Well,” Melun continued, “the explanation is simplicity itself. I have been duped by that man.”
Again he pointed to Westerham.
“He introduced himself to me,” he went on, “as a colleague in our own particular line of business, and suggested certain schemes to me. Some of them appeared to me to be good, but I may as well tell you that they were at the moment of no use to me, as I had on hand a piece of business which, if I had pulled it off, would have enabled us to rest on our laurels for a considerable period.”
At this point Melun laughed to himself. Westerham was sitting bolt upright on the floor, with every evidence of the closest attention. He was of half a mind to call Melun a liar there and then, but he knew that the greater the lies, and the more the lies, the easier he could refute them. So he let Melun run on without protest.
“Yes,” continued the captain, “it was a very great piece of business indeed, so important a piece of business that it was necessary to keep it from even my most intimate friends and helpers. There was nothing unusual in this, for, as you know, I have often conducted campaigns without letting you into my secrets until success had been assured.
“On this occasion, considering the position of the person I was assailing, the strictest secrecy was necessary. I didn't even inform the kind friend who finances us what I was about. I didn't even tell Crow of my movements, though I had informed him that something out of the common was in view.
“However, with the appearance of that man whom you now see convicted as a traitor, there was introduced into our affairs a certain element—treachery and suspicion.
“One never knows,” Melun went on with calm mendacity, “of what one may be accused; and I therefore took the precaution to inform at least one of you of what I was about, lest it should be charged against me that I was playing the rest of you false.