“Certainly not,” replied Robertson, puffing slowly at his cigar, watching Otway keenly through his half-closed eyelids, and wondering what that astute young gentleman was driving at.  “I guess that you, Mr. Otway, will do all that is right and cor-rect.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Otway humbly, and with great seriousness, “I know my duty to my employers, and I know that this gentleman may be led into very serious trouble through the dense stupidity of the British Consul here.”

He turned to Mr. O’Donovan—­“Are you aware, Mr. O’Donikin—­I beg your pardon, O’Donovan—­that the British Consul here is not, officially, the British Consul.  He is merely a commercial agent, like the United States Consul.  Neither are accredited by their Governments to act officially on behalf of their respective countries, and even if they were, there is no extradition treaty with the Samoan Islands, which is a country without a recognised government.  Of course, Mr. O’Donovan, you are acting in good faith; but you have no more legal right nor the power to arrest a man in Samoa, than you have to arrest one in Manchuria or Patagonia.  Of course, old Johns (the British Consul) doesn’t know this, or he would not have made such a fool of himself by endorsing a warrant from an irresponsible judge of a New Zealand court.  But as I told you, I shall aid you in every possible way.”

O’Donovan was no fool.  He knew that all that Otway had said was absolutely correct, but he braced himself up.

“I daresay what you say may be right, Mr. Supercargo.  But I’ve come from New Zealand to get this joker, and by blazes I mean to get him, and take him back with me to New Zealand.  And I mean to have those twenty thousand sovereigns to take back as well.”

“Well, then, why the devil don’t you go and get your man?  He’s at Joe D’Acosta’s hotel with his wife.”

“I don’t want to be bothered with him just yet.  I have no place to put him into.  The Californian mail boat from San Francisco is not due here for another ten days.  But I know that he hasn’t taken his stolen money ashore yet, and you had better hand it over to me at once.  I can get him at any time.”

Otway leant back in his chair and laughed.

“I don’t doubt that, Mr. O’Donovan.  If you have enough money to do it, you can do as you say—­get this man at any time.  But you want to have some guns behind you to enforce it; and then his capture won’t affect our custody of the money.  If the Consul instigates you to make an attack on the ship, you will do so at your peril, for we shall resist any piratical attempt.”

O’Donovan’s face fell.  “You said you would assist me?”

“So I will,” replied Otway, lying genially, “But you must point out a way.  The High Commissioner for the Western Pacific, in Fiji, is the only man who could give you power to arrest the man and convey him to New Zealand, and the moment you show me the High or the Deputy High Commissioner’s order to hand over the money, and Lacy’s other effects, I’ll do so.”