“You seem to have gotten over it.  This seems to be getting more of a tangle all the time, and a sort of mutual-admiration society.  I have no objection to keeping up the conversation, but you pique my curiosity as to how it is all going to come out.  As I have already remarked, I can’t see any argument that would lead you to let me walk away from here unless I tell you, as you told Petrak and Buckrow, that you’ll hang.”

“Now, tut, tut!  You can’t play my game.  I thought you had more originality than that.  You know too much now, and it would be premature to tell the story of the Kut Sang for several years.  I’m afraid that I’ll have to write my own memoirs, but for posthumous publication, of course.”

“I’m sure I would like to read them.  You have turned murder into a fine art—­you should have been a contemporary of the Borgias.”

“Do you know, Mr. Trenholm, I have thought of something like that myself.  I am quite proud of my success.  I would like if my career could be written down by a good hand at such things; but of course that is impossible, for no man ever knew the Devil’s Admiral and lived.  I regret to say that you will be no exception in that respect, Mr. Trenholm.  I’m sorry you didn’t go down in the Kut Sang and save me what is bound to be a disagreeable job.”

“In that case I would have missed the little drama between you and Mr. Buckrow.  I rather enjoyed it.  You seem to be an artist at other things besides slaying men.”

“I am glad you liked it, but Bucky is rather hard to handle at times.  There will be another act or two, and I’ll give you a chance to see the climax.”

“That’s kind of you, although you upset dramatic conventions and I will find it rather hard, I am afraid, to be a competent critic.  Besides, I might be prejudiced, having a personal interest in the outcome.”

“That won’t matter much,” he smiled.  “My critics are always short-lived.  Bucky there came nearest to getting me, though.  If it hadn’t been for Petrak I never could have handled him.  They can’t bear the thought of a rope.  Whenever there was a hanging I took them to see it.  Being a man of the cloth, I was admitted to all sorts of places, and, while I didn’t travel openly with my men, I could mingle with them more or less in the character of a missionary.”

He looked up at Buckrow, who stood over us scowling suspiciously, and his hand was close to his pistol.

“What’s wrong, Bucky?” purred Thirkle, moistening a cigar between his lips and giving Buckrow a searching glance.

“I don’t like that place in there for the gold, Thirkle.  It’s too wet to suit me.”

“The dampness won’t do any damage, Bucky.  That’s the best place on the island, to my thinking; but, of course, if you don’t like it we’ll consider it.”

“The gold will rust in there,” said Buckrow; and I knew he was in a dangerous mood again.

“Gold don’t rust, Bucky,” called Petrak, standing in the crevice and grinning at Thirkle.