“I believe you know Ruth Osborne,” Clay went on with a searching glance at him.
Jimmy was taken off his guard, and Clay noticed his slight start and change of expression.
“I met Miss Osborne on board the _Empress_,” he replied cautiously.
“Well,” he said, “she’s a girl who makes an impression, and my notion is that her character matches her looks.” He paused and went on with a thoughtful air: “Anyhow, she wouldn’t have Aynsley.”
Jimmy colored. Clay’s manner was significant, but not hostile. Ill as the man was, Jimmy imagined that he was cleverly playing a game, and, with some object, was trying to turn his recent opponent into an ally. For all that, Jimmy thought his motive was good.
“I mustn’t keep you talking too long,” Jimmy said. He did not wish to discuss Miss Osborne.
“I soon get tired; but there’s something I must mention. You’ll clean the wreck out in a few hours, and then you may as well blow her up. My diver will help you, and we have some high-grade powder and a firing outfit.”
“It might be wise. If she washed up nearer the bight she would be dangerous. The island’s charted, and I dare say vessels now and then run in.”
“Yes; I think we can take it that she’s a danger. I’ll tell my man to give you the truck you want and you had better get finished while the weather’s fine.”
Moving feebly, he held out his hand in sign of dismissal, and Jimmy took it. He had no repugnance to doing so, but he felt that he was making his helpless enemy a promise.
Aynsley was waiting on deck and insisted on Jimmy’s staying to dinner. Although well served, it was a melancholy meal, and Jimmy had a sense of loneliness as he sat at the long table. Aynsley was attentive to his comfort and tried to make conversation, but he was obviously depressed.
“We start to get out the last of the gold at daybreak,” Jimmy answered. “If we’re fortunate, it should take only three or four hours.”
“I agreed with your father that we had better blow up the wreck.”
“You should get that done before dark to-morrow.”
“I think so, if the water keeps smooth. In fact, I dare say we’ll have finished in the afternoon.”
“That’s a relief,” declared Aynsley. “Perhaps I’m not tactful in reminding you that I don’t know—and don’t want to know—what your business with my father is, but he’s seriously ill, and we ought to get away at once in order to put him in a good doctor’s hands as soon as possible. The trouble is that he won’t hear of our leaving until you have completed the job.”