"… and take a radiogram. Ha. Now. 'Messrs. Kick-wood, Bane, and Kickwood, Solicitors."… Spell it? Damn it, Miss Keller, you spell it the way it's pronounced: K-i-c-k-w-o-o-d, Kickwood. Ha. "31b King's Bench Walk." Or is it 31a? Why can't these confounded lawyers make up their minds? How should I remember their infernal addresses? Wait a minute, wait a minute… "
The door popped open in the gloom. A lean figure in a shabby grey dressing-gown, with a worsted plaid shawl wrapped round its shoulders, stared at them. Even indoors It wore a broad-brimmed black hat, and the greyish face underneath had so queer a look, in the midst of Lord Sturton's costly trinkets strewn about the drawing-room, that it reminded Morgan of one of those pictures of wizards in an Arthur Rackham illustration. Also, Morgan wished somebody would open a porthole.
The figure said, "Hah!" and stalked over. It was observable that before this man Captain Whistler looked exactly m Warren had looked before Captain Whistler.
"Well?" said Lord Sturton. "I'm waiting, I'm waiting." lie took a thin finger and thumb and flicked at one of his sideburns. "Have you got that emerald?"
"If you'll only be patient, sir," replied Whistler, as
though he were trying to swell himself out with affability and be his public beaming self, "I — ha-ha! Of course we shall get it."
"Then you haven't got the emerald. Very well. Why don't you say so?"
"I only wished to say—"
"Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish! Answer me, yes, or no. If you haven't got the emerald, why are you here?" Sturton shot out his neck.
"It was about that little matter we were discussing— ha-ha!" returned Whistler, with a broad gesture of paternal friendliness. "You know I said, your Lordship, that I could bring witnesses to show I had behaved within my duties. You said I was responsible—"
"So you are, so you are. I have your signed receipt. Here."
"The great line of which I have the honour to be one of the senior commanders has always wished, your Lordship, to avoid unpleasantness," began the captain, in a rolling voice. "However, having its best interests at heart…"
"Pfaa!" snapped the other, suddenly sitting down against the back of the chaise-longue and hunching his shawl round his shoulders. "Why don't you say what you mean? You mean that you've been caught fair and square; but what you want is a sporting run. Eh? Eh?"
"That, your Lordship, is putting it harshly… "
Sturton thrust his finger out of the shawl and pointed. "I'll give it you. Damn no man without proof. Bible says so. Prove it to me; no damage suit. There."
Morgan got the impression that he immensely enjoyed being arbiter of somebody's official head; that it tickled a nerve of perverted humour under his dry ribs. He could humour a whim — but the whim had to have its compensations. Morgan realised that, with this sharp-eyed old lad questioning, a lie had to be good. Well, he should be beaten. In a way, Morgan thought, that was incentive enough to save Whistler's bacon! Sturton was leaning back, hugging the shawl round his head. On the table at his elbow was a curious trinket of his own: a Mandarin-head that would wag on its pedestal, and had two rubies for eyes. At intervals he would reach out and set it wagging.
"Well?" he said, abruptly. "Anything to say?"
"A while ago, your Lordship, you intimated to me — as 1 told this lady and gentleman — that, if I could offer you the proof I said I could," Whistler cleared his throat, "you would not — ah—"
"Well? Well? Where's the proof? I don't see it?"
"These witnesses, you see—"
Morgan got ready, steadying himself. It was unnecessary.
"Who are you, young man? Are you the nephew of a friend of mine? Are you Warpus's nephew? Eh?"
"No, your Lordship," interposed the captain. "This is Mr. Henry Morgan, the very distinguished writer, who I thought would offer evidence acceptable… "
Sturton laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. Morgan glanced at Peggy, who had begun to grow frightened. Sturton laughed again.
"Fail first count. You'd make no lawyer. I want witnesses I know of. Er — Commander, you stated to me, I think, that you believed you could produce this nephew. Where is he?"
He leaned out and flung the question with a snap of impatience.
The Parcae were at it again. Morgan could have whistled In admiring astonishment, or sworn from the same situation.
"This morning," continued Sturton, "you stated to me that you could bring him. Why isn't he here? Won't he come?"
Whistler jerked himself out of his hypnotised stare. "Yes, yes, of course. Your Lordship. I — ah — that is, I'm sure he'll be glad to come."
"I repeat to you," squeaked the other, snapping his linger on the Mandarin's head until the rubies winked demoniacally, "that, as this little trial by the court may cost me fifty thousand pounds, I must insist on a direct answer. Don't quibble with me. Don't spoil my entertainment. He was the witness I especially asked for, and the only witness I especially asked for. Why didn't you bring him?"
"It was not exactly convenient…." said Whistler, his voice beginning to rise to a roar despite himself. His eye rolled round at Morgan, who could only shrug.
"Ah!" said Sturton. "Signals, eh? Signals. Now then… "
"If you will allow me to go and find him, your Lordship—"
"Once and for all, I demand, I insist on an answer! Where is he?"
All caution boarded the Flying Dutchman and sailed away. "He's in the brig-, you dried-up lubber!" roared Captain Whistler, exploding at last. "He's in the brig. And now I'm going to tell you what I think of you and your ruddy elephant and your—"
Sturton was laughing again.
It was an unholy noise in that gloomy, ill-smelling place, with the rubies winking on the table and Sturton's head bobbing under the broad hat. "Ah." he said, "that's better! That's more like yourself. I'd heard the news, you see. He's in the brig. Yes, yes, Exactly. Why did you put him there?"
"Because he's stark, raving mad. that's why! He attacked me with a razor. He tried to poison me. He gabbled about bears. He—"
"Indeed?" said Sturton. "Mad, is he? Well, well. And this is the man, I think, you wished to call as a witness to: your spotless behaviour? This is your star witness, who was to testify how you lost the emerald?… Captain! Whistler, are you sure that you yourself are entirely in: your right mind?"
Peggy went over and patted the skipper on the back, j speaking soothing words to him. Her feminine instincts, were deeply aroused, for he was almost at the point where there were tears in those honest old eyes. And again he was speechless before the evil weaving of Lachesis. He ! must now be beginning, Morgan fancied, to have a faint j conception of how Warren had felt. j
"I am waiting," said Sturton. I
Again the mirth tickled his rusty ribs. But he was watch-lug Whistler wind himself up for a few sulphurous remark n, and forestalled him by holding up a scraggy hand.
"Rubbish rubbish rubbish. Wait. Don't say it, Commander. You'd regret it. / have something to say. It is only fair to you. The joke has been excellent, excellent, excellent. It has amused me, although, as a lawyer, Commander — tut, tut! But it is time to end it now. I have enjoyed myself long enough… Captain, there will be no suit."
"No suit?"
"None. My secretary informed me of the rumour in the ship. That the nephew of my old friend had been imprisoned for trying to kill somebody. I could not resist amusing myself. Well! Time's ended. Joke's up. I have business… No suit. Finished, ended, done. Don't want to hear of it again."
"But that emerald, .!"
"Oh, yes! Yes, yes. The stone, of course. Very funny things go on aboard this ship. But why should there be a suit? Maybe the thief reformed; got qualms of conscience. How should / know? Anyhow—"