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Updated: July 26, 2025
That is a matter between me and my conscience." "Well," Phinuit hazarded with a good show of confidence, "I guess you won't tell us to go plumb to hell, will you?" "No; I promise to be more original than that." "Then you refuse!" Liane breathed tensely. "Oh, I haven't said that! You must give me time to think this over."
"Presently, some of them, ultimately all; for some lingered a few years in French prisons, like that great Popinot, the father of monsieur who has caused us so much trouble." "And you ?" "Why," Lanyard laughed, "I have managed to keep out of jail, so I presume I must have kept my vow to be good." "And no backsliding?" Phinuit suggested with a leer. "Ah! you must not ask me to tell you everything.
"I don't believe you," Liane retorted coolly. For some moments Lanyard continued to stare reflectively at his feet. Nothing whatever of his thought was to be gathered from his countenance, though eyes more shrewd to read than those of Phinuit or Monk were watching it intently. "Well, Mr. Lanyard, what do you say?" Lanyard lifted his meditative gaze to the face of Phinuit.
"He has no faith at all in our good intentions," Phinuit explained, eyeing Lanyard with mild reproach. "It's most discouraging." "Monsieur suffers from insomnia?" Monk asked in his turn. "Under certain circumstances." "Ever take anything for it?" "To-night it would require nothing less than possession of the Montalais jewels to put me to sleep."
The safe stays shut." "Open it, I beg you!" Liane implored in tremulous accents. "No " "Why not?" Phinuit argued. "What can he do? I've got him covered." "And I," Lanyard interjected softly, "as you all know, am unarmed." "Please!" Liane insisted. There was a pause which ended in a sullen grunt from Monk.
The eloquent eyebrows indicated surprise and resignation, and Monk got up and inserted himself into his white linen tunic. Phinuit, more sensitive to the accent of something amiss, hurried out in unceremonious shirt sleeves. "What's up?" he demanded, looking from Lanyard's grave face to Liane's face of pallor and distress. Lanyard informed him in a few words. "Impossible!" Phinuit commented.
"As long as I'm master of this vessel, sir, I'll sail her according to the counsels of my own discretion and thank you to keep your animadversions to yourself!" "Animadversions!" Phinuit echoed, and made round, shocked eyes. "Oh, I never! At least, I didn't mean anything naughty, skipper dear."
Monk snorted, and grumbled over his food throughout the remainder of the meal; but later, coming upon a group composed of Liane Delorme, Lanyard and Phinuit, in the saloon, he paused, looked this way and that to make sure none of the stewards was within eavesdropping distance, and graciously unbent a little. "I'm making the best time we can while we can see at all," he volunteered.
Lanyard smiled cheerfully and sat up in his chair, watching the captain while he unlocked the door in the pedestal and with shaking fingers manipulated the combination dial. Liane Delorme left her chair to stand nearby, in undissembled anxiety. Only Phinuit remained as he had been, lounging back and watching Lanyard narrowly, his automatic pistol dangling between his knees.
Won't you tell me quickly what possible value my poor talents can have found in your sight?" "You tell him, Monk," Phinuit said irreverently "I'm no tale-bearer." Monk elevated his eyebrows above recognition of the impertinence, and offered Lanyard a bow of formidable courtesy.
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