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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Cleve," said Cleigh, solemnly, "you appreciate the risks you are running?" "Mr. Cleigh, there are no risks. It's a dead certainty. Cunningham is one of your efficiency experts. Everything has been thought of." "Except fate," supplemented Cleigh. "Fate? Why, she's our chief engineer!" Cleve turned away, chuckling; a dozen feet off this chuckle became boisterous laughter. "What can they be after?
"Through with this game. I'm going in for a little sport. This string of beads was the wind-up. But don't worry. They'll be on board here to-morrow. You brought the gold?" "Yes." The visitor paused in front of the rug. He sighed audibly. "Scheherazade's twinkling little feet! Lord, but that rug is a wonder! Cleigh, I've been offered eighty thousand for it." "What's that?"
Cleigh will not prosecute us for piracy if we play a decent game until we raise the Catwick. On old Van Dorn's tub we can drink and sing if we want to. If Cunningham gets a whiff of your breath, when you've had it, you'll get yours. Most of the boys have never done anything worse than apple stealing. It was the adventure.
"Seize this man!" shouted Cleigh, thunderously, as he indicated Cunningham. The men, however, fell into line and came to attention. Most of them were grinning. "Do you hear me? Brown, Jessup, McCarthy seize this man!" No one stirred. Cleigh then lost his head. With a growl he sprang toward Cunningham. Half the crew jumped instantly into the gap between, and they were no longer grinning.
From the stars to the room, from the room to the stars, her glance roved uneasily. Had she fallen upon an adventure? Was Dennison's theory correct regarding the beads? She rose and went to the dresser, inspecting the beads carefully. Positively glass! That Anthony Cleigh should be seeking a string of glass beads seemed arrant nonsense.
She felt as though she were being pulled two ways by wild horses! For she was about to demand of Anthony Cleigh the promised reparation. And which of two things should she demand? All this time, since Cleigh had uttered the promise, she had had but one thought to bring father and son together, to do away with this foolish estrangement.
A little trinket, worthless except for sentimental reasons, throwing these lives together. Of course an oil would have lured the elder Cleigh across the Pacific quite as successfully. The old chap had been particularly keen for a sea voyage after having been cooped up for four years. But in the event of baiting the trap with a painting neither the girl nor the son would have been on board.
The moment Eisenfeldt sees these oils and the rug he becomes my financier, but he'll never put his claw on them except for one thing that act of God they mention on the back of your ticket. Some raider may have poked into this lagoon of mine. In that case Eisenfeldt wins." Cleigh smiled. "A pretty case, Cunningham, but it won't hold water.
"It wasn't there, was it?" This tickled Cunningham. "You're a woman in a million! You read my thought perfectly. I like ready wit in a woman. I had to find out. You see, I had promised those beads to Cleigh, and when I humanly can I keep my promises. Sit down, captain!" For Dennison had risen to his feet. "Sit down! Don't start anything you can't finish."
"And what will become of me if anything happens to you, or anything happens to him? What about the crew if he isn't on hand to hold them?" The muscular tenseness of the arm she held relaxed. But the look he gave his father was on a par with that which Cleigh had so recently spent upon Cunningham. Cleigh could not support it, and turned his head aside. "All right. But mind you keep in sight!
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