“Just a little friendly question, Mr. Randall,” O’Neil said evenly. “May I inquire if Mr. Impey is going with you?”
Randall’s face turned suddenly pale, and the hand holding the morning paper shook perceptibly.
“You know entirely too much,” he cried unguardedly.
“Oh, ho!” O’Neil exclaimed, “and the yellow boy there off the stage. I see he’s in the party too, eh?”
Randall had stepped between the shafts of a rikisha into which he was about to enter, with one foot on the step.
After all, what had he to fear from this American sailor? The jig was up, and perhaps he could be made useful. Why then make an enemy of him?
“I am going to the English Hatoba,”[3] he replied quickly; “meet us there and I’ll answer your questions.”
When O’Neil and Marley arrived at the landing Randall and his friends were already in a little naphtha launch.
“Get in,” Randall invited.
The sailors waved good-bye to Sago, who was waiting for the “Alaska’s” steamer, and were soon alongside a trim little sea-going yacht anchored just inside the breakwater.