“Why, my dear Mr. Trenholm!” exclaimed Meeker, getting to his feet, aghast at the accusation of the little red-headed man.  “My dear sir, I could hardly believe such a thing of you!  And we dined with you—­”

“Here, you hold up,” shouted Riggs.  “What does this mean, Mr. Trenholm?  I remember now that I did see this man taking money from you and I told you not to be tipping the crew.  What have you to say?”

“He was to give me ten pound—­”

“Shut up!” roared Harris to Petrak.

“What have I to say?” I gasped, astounded at the turn of affairs and hardly able to believe what I heard from Petrak.  “I know nothing about it!  The man must be crazy!”

“I am not so sure of that,” retorted Riggs.  “I must confess, Mr. Trenholm, that I was somewhat surprised to find that you carried two pistols, and you must admit that you brought this man on board with you.  You seem to know him.”

“Know him!  The little rat has been following me about Manila all day!  I thought I was to be rid of him until you took him as a member of the crew—­”

“Ten pound I was to get for a killin’ of that chap there,” shrieked Petrak.  “That’s what he was passing me the silver for this day, sir.  They’ll hang me now—­they’ll hang me!”

“It looks very awkward for you, Mr. Trenholm,” said Meeker, sadly.

I was about to denounce the missionary and tell him how I had seen him and Petrak together much in Manila, but I was so angry for a minute that I thought it better to hold myself in check for the time.

I stood before them for a few seconds, wondering what I should do, and then my rage got possession of me, and I reached for a pistol, intending to hold Meeker under the muzzle of it and make him confess his true character and admit that Petrak was his friend rather than mine.

As I threw my hand back, my wrist was seized and I turned to see Rajah behind me, holding my arm in a firm grip.  He menaced me with his kris and grinned calmly.

“My dear Mr. Trenholm,” said Meeker, smiling blandly.  “One crime should serve your purpose for this evening, it seems to me.”

Captain Riggs stepped up and relieved me of my pistols, and I knew that I had made a fool of myself by attempting to draw the weapon.

“I am very sorry about this, Mr. Trenholm,” said the captain.

CHAPTER VII

I TURN SPY MYSELF

Meeker stood with folded arms and grinned at me as he saw my pistols taken by the captain; and for the first time since I had seen him he dropped his sanctimonious pose and looked anything but the decrepit old missionary which he had always seemed.  His shoulders were squared and his head thrown back, and there was mockery in his eyes.

But it was not so much his insolent and triumphant look which took my attention as the manner in which he stood upon the heaving deck of the saloon; his knees had that limp sea-bend of the sailor and his out-turned toes seemed to grasp the uncertain rise and fall of the carpet beneath his feet; he was a mariner now, not a preacher, for no landsman could hold himself so easily in a vessel which pitched and rolled in the long swells of the China Sea.