“Dunno, sir.”
“Was he a convict?”
“Dunno, sir.”
“You think this a devilish clever scheme, don’t you?”
“It’ll come off—it’ll come off,” he answered.
“I’ll work you up twenty safer, surer, and easier schemes than that,” said I.
“Maybe; we likes our’n,” he answered, with a quiet grin and a slow look at the lady Aurora, who was listening with the strained, vexed, impatient look of one who hears but understands little of what passes.
“Amsterdam Island is in the Indian Ocean,” said I.
“So they say.”
“No vessel under three hundred tons may navigate the Indian seas. Do you know that?”