I humanly can. Well?"

"What's this Catwick Island?"

"Hanged if I know!"

"Are you going to maroon us there?"

"No. At that point the yacht will be turned back to your father, and he
can cruise until the crack o' doom without further interference from yours
truly."

"That's your word?"

"It is--and I will keep it. Anything else?"

"Yes. I will play the game as it lies, provided that Miss Norman is in
nowise interfered with or annoyed."

"How is she taking it?"

"My reply first."

"Neither I nor the crew will bother her. She shall come and go free as the
gull in the air. If at any time the men do not observe the utmost
politeness toward her you will do me a favour to report to me. That's my
word, and I promise to keep it, even if I have to kill a man or two. I
wish to come through clean in the hands so far as your father, Miss
Norman, and yourself are concerned. I'm risking my neck and my liberty,
for this is piracy on the high seas. But every man is entitled to one good
joke during his lifetime, and when we raise the Catwick I'll explain this
joke in full. If you don't chuckle, then you haven't so much as a grain of
humour in your make-up."

"Well, there's nothing for me to do but take your word as you give it."

"That's the way to talk. Now, Flint, this bay or lagoon----"

The voice dropped into a low, indistinguishable murmur. Dennison realized
that the moment had come to depart; the edge of the encounter was in
Cunningham's favour and to remain would only serve to sharpen this edge.
So he went outside, slamming the door behind him.

The word of a rogue! There was now nothing to do but turn in. He believed
he had a glimmer. Somewhere off the Catwick Cunningham and his crew were
to be picked up. He would not be going to the Catwick himself, not
knowing whether it was jungle or bald rock. But if a ship was to pick him
up, why hadn't she made Shanghai and picked him up there? Why commit
piracy--unless he was a colossal liar, which Dennison was ready enough to
believe. The word of a rogue!

Some private war? Was Cunningham paying off an old grudge? But was any
grudge worth this risk? The old boy wasn't to be scared; Cunningham ought
to have known that. If Cleigh came through with a whole skin he'd hunt the
beggar down if it carried him to the North Pole. Cunningham ought to have
known that, too. A planted crew, piracy--and he, Dennison Cleigh, was
eventually to chuckle over it! He had his doubts. And w