Dan saw that she was safe from any hysterical screaming, enjoined
silence on both, and passed on towards the parlour where Basil was
sitting. He paused for a moment to draw his sword, then tip-toed to
the door. Leaning against the oaken post, he heard the rustling of
paper. He set his teeth; there was a flash of light; the door had been
opened and shut again, and the sailor and the Spanish agent stood face
to face.

Basil's first emotion was one of the most absolute and complete
astonishment. So surprised was he that he actually sat and rubbed his
eyes as though to clear them from deluding visions. And in just that
moment of stupefaction Dan acted. The papers were on the table:
doubtless they were his papers. He lunged forward, spitted them on the
point of his sword, and crammed them into his doublet by the time Basil
was on his feet, and a dagger in his hand. The sailor expected a
vicious spring from his adversary, but Basil made no move forward. His
quondam roadside companion had the advantage of him in height, reach,
and length of weapon, and he had related sufficient of his exploits
during their Yuletide tramp to prove himself an apt swordsman. The
ex-monk had been trained in a school that set guile above force. He
saw at once that his tongue would be his better weapon, so put his
dagger back into his belt, sat down and snuffed his candle.

"Thou art not going to fight?"

"Why should we do so? Sit down, Dan Pengelly, and explain thyself."

It was the sailor's turn to be astonished. He got a stool and seated
himself, his back to the door, and his weapon across his knee. Basil
laughed with assumed good-humour.

"Thou art careful, comrade."

"Thou hast tricked me once."

"And thou hast neatly tricked me. We cry 'quits.'"

"Not so."

"Why not? I have thy papers--I make no secret of that--and thou hast
mine."

"Are not these the same?"

"No. But let us exchange, and give over all talk of robbery." Basil
got up and went to a little press in the wall. Before opening the door
he turned again to Dan. "Thou wilt observe that I am not afraid of
turning my back to thee. I have more faith in thine honour than thou
hast in mine."

The sailor flushed and fidgeted. "Thou didst deceive me under the
guise of friendship," he muttered.

"Pshaw, man! thou wert undone by thine own foolishness. Why didst
chatter to a stranger about thy papers? Is not all England agog to
find the land of 'El Dora