A minute later the Mauravanian, continuing what was to all appearances a lonely and aimless promenade round the vessel, came abreast of that spot and of him.
"Monsieur" spoke out--guardedly, but in a clear, crisp tone that left no room for doubt upon _one_ point, at least.
"Mon ami, it is done--it is accomplished," that crisp voice said. "You shall report that to his Majesty's ministers. Voila, it is done!"
"It is not done!" replied the Mauravanian, in a swift, biting, emphatic whisper. "You jump to conclusions too quickly. Here! take this. It is an evening paper. The thing was useless--he was not there!"
"Sh-h! Take it--read it. I will see you when we land. Not here--it is too dangerous. Au revoir!"
Then he passed on and round the curve of the deckhouse to the promenade on the other side; and "Monsieur," with the paper hard shut in the grip of a tense hand, moved fleetly back toward the smoke-room.
"Gawd's truth--a woman!" gulped Dollops in a shaking voice.
"No, not a woman--a devil!" said Narkom through his teeth. "Margot, by James! Margot, herself! And what is he--what is Cleek?--that a king should enter into compact with a woman to kill him? Margot, dash her! Well, I'll have you now, my lady--yes, by James, I will!"
"Guv'ner! Gawd's truth, sir, where are you going?"
"To the operator in charge of the wireless--to send a message to the chief of the Calais police to meet me on arrival!" said Narkom in reply. "Stop where you are. Lay low! Wait for me. We'll land in a dozen minutes' time. I'll have that Jezebel and her confederates and I'll rout out Cleek and get him beyond the clutches of them if I tear up all France to do it."
"Gawd bless you, sir, Gawd bless you and forgive me!" said Dollops with a lump in his throat and a mist in his eyes. "I said often you was a sosidge and a muff, sir, but you aren't--you're a man!"
Narkom did not hear. He was gone already--down the deck to the cabin of the wireless operator. In another moment he had passed in, shut the door behind him, and the Law at sea was talking to the Law ashore through the blue ether and across the moonlit waves.
It was ten minutes later. The message had gone its way and Narkom was back in the lifeboat's shadow again, and close on the bows the lamps of Calais pier shone yellow in the blue-and-silver darkness. On the deck below people were bustling about and making for the place where the gangplank was to be thrust out presently, and link boat and shore together. On the quay, customs officials were making ready for the coming inspection, porters were scuttling about in their blue smocks and peaked caps, and, back of all, the outlines of Calais Town loomed, shadowy and grim through the crowding gloom.