Buckrow got up and slung a rope over his shoulders and began to make a sling so that he could balance a sack of gold on each end of it.

“I was an officer in the navy, Bucky,” said Thirkle, with a sly grin.

“An officer!” exclaimed Buckrow, halting in his work.

“An officer in the navy with the queen’s commission at my back and an admiral’s flag ahead,” said Thirkle, pleased with the impression he had made.  “That’s what, Bucky.  Now ye see I was the lad to finish the job here in fine style.  That’s why I can get away with this gold, which you can’t.  I can show a wad of five-pound notes and not have Scotland Yard at my heels, or charter a ship and crew and go about it businesslike, and take my time at it.

“Nice job ye’ll make of it, coming back here for this gold.  You’ve got the whip hand now, and I’ll let it go at that; but when they’ve got ye on the gallows, which they will, remember what Thirkle told ye, sitting here in the thick of it, which ye think ye’ll spend for high life in London.  Before ye ever get it to London ye’ll find it’s another tune ye’ll play.  Maybe ye think ye can fill a ship with gold and sail to the dockhead and lift it out and let it go at that—­they’ll take the gold and hang you, that’s what.

“No doubt ye think the owners of this gold won’t have a word to say when they find the Kut Sang overdue.  Maybe ye think the looting of her was the easiest part of it; but ye’ll find murder is easy, while keeping it quiet is another tale and another trick.  Any man with a knife can go out and stab a man in the back, but he finds what comes after, the worst of it.

“It looks easy to ye because we got away with the Southern Cross and the Legaspi—­but when ye mount the gallows ye’ll see the best of old Thirkle’s tricks was to keep his tracks clear and things running sweet.  They’ll take you and wring it all out of ye, the whole murderous story, and swing ye from a high place.  Ye’ll end on the gallows, Bucky.”

“Never ye fret about the gallows.  I’ll get this gold away neat and clean if it takes me twenty years, and I’m the lad that can wait until the time is ripe.”

“Maybe ye can,” said Thirkle, “but all I want you to remember is that Thirkle said ye couldn’t, and my words will come to ye when ye take those thirteen steps up to the rope.  Just keep that in mind, Bucky.”

Buckrow made no reply, but busied himself again with the sling, and as he got down on his knees with his back toward me, I decided that it was time that I took a hand in the proceedings.  With Thirkle bound, I had nothing to fear from him, and I began to draw myself up from the ground, intending to get on one knee and then empty my pistol into Buckrow, who was not a dozen yards away.