The bathroom yielded nothing more than a long-handled brush, whilst her sitting-room made no return for her search.
She sat watching the door as the hours passed, but no attempt was made to enter the cabin. A bell rang at intervals on the deck: she counted eight. It was midnight. How long would it be before Digby Groat came?
At that moment a pale-faced Digby Groat, his teeth chattering, sat in the cabin of the wireless operator, reading a message which had been picked up. Part was in code, and evidently addressed to the Admiralty ships cruising in the vicinity, but the longer message was in plain English and was addressed:
“To the chief officers of all ships. To the Commanders of H.M. ships: to all Justices of the Peace, officers of the police Great Britain and Ireland. To all Inspectors, sub-inspectors of the Royal Irish Constabulary:
“Arrest and detain Digby Groat, height five foot nine, stoutly built, complexion sallow, had small moustache but believed to have shaven. Speaks Spanish, French, Portuguese, and is a qualified surgeon and physician, believed to be travelling on the S.Y. Pealigo, No. XVM. This man is wanted on a charge of wilful murder and conspiracy; a reward of five thousand pounds will be paid by Messrs. Salter & Salter, Solicitors, of London, for his arrest and detention. Believe he has travelling with him, under compulsion, Dorothy Danton, age 22. Groat is a dangerous man and carries firearms.”
The little captain of the Pealigo took the thin cigar from his teeth and regarded the grey ash attentively, though he was also looking at the white-faced man by the operator’s side.
“So you see, senhor,” he said suavely, “I am in a most difficult position.”
“I thought you did not speak English,” said Digby, finding his voice at last.
The little captain smiled.
“I read enough English to understand a reward of five thousand pounds, senhor,” he said significantly. “And if I did not, my wireless operator speaks many languages, English included, and he would have explained to me, even if I had not been able to understand the message myself.”
Digby looked at him bleakly.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“That depends upon what you are going to do,” said the Brazilian. “I am no traitor to my salt, and I should like to serve you, but you readily understand that this would mean a terrible thing for me, if, knowing that you were wanted by the English police, I assisted you to make an escape? I am not a stickler for small things,” he shrugged his shoulders, “and Senhor Maxilla did much that I closed my eyes to. Women came into his calculations, but murder never.”
“I am not a murderer, I tell you,” stormed Digby vehemently, “and you are under my orders. Do you understand that?”
He jumped up and stood menacingly above the unperturbed Brazilian, and in his hand had appeared an ugly-looking weapon.
“You will carry out my instructions to the letter, or, by God, you’ll know all about it!”
But the captain of the Pealigo had returned to the contemplation of his cigar. He reminded Digby somewhat of Bronson, and the yellow-faced man shivered as at an unpleasant thought.
“It is not the first time I have been threatened with a revolver,” said the captain coolly. “Years ago when I was very young, such things might have frightened me, but today I am not young. I have a family in Brazil who are very expensive; my pay is small, otherwise I would not follow the sea and be every man’s dog to kick and bully as he wishes. If I had a hundred thousand pounds, senhor, I should settle down on a plantation which I have bought and be a happy and a silent man for the rest of my life.”
He emphasized “silent,” and Digby understood.
“Couldn’t you do that for a little less than a hundred thousand?” he asked.
“I have been thinking the matter out very carefully. We shipmen have plenty of time to think, and that is the conclusion that I have reached, that a hundred thousand pounds would make all the difference between a life of work and a life of ease.” He was silent for a moment and then went on. “That is why I hesitated about the reward. If the radio had said a hundred thousand pounds, senhor, I should have been tempted.”
Digby turned on him with a snarl.
“Talk straight, will you?” he said. “You want me to pay you a hundred thousand pounds, and that is the price for carrying me to safety; otherwise you will return to port and give me up.”
The captain shrugged his shoulders.
“I said nothing of the sort, senhor,” he said. “I merely mentioned a little private matter in which I am glad to see you take an interest. The senhor also wishes for a happy life in Brazil with the beautiful lady he brought on board, and the senhor is not a poor man, and if it is true that the beautiful lady is an heiress, he could be richer.”
The operator looked in. He was anxious to come back to his own cabin, but the captain, with a jerk of his head, sent him out again.
He dropped his voice a tone.
“Would it not be possible for me to go to the young lady and say: ‘Miss, you are in great danger, and I too am in danger of losing my liberty, what would you pay me to put a sentry outside your door; to place Senhor Digby Groat in irons, in the strongroom?’ Do you think she would say a hundred thousand pounds, or even a half of her fortune, senhor?”
Digby was silent.
The threat was real and definite. It was not camouflaged by any fine phrases; as plainly as the little Brazilian
