“He’s a most astute and clever young scoundrel, Mr. O’Donovan, and in a way we are at his mercy.  But you shall have the four hundred pounds in the morning—­not later than noon.  This man Barton must be brought to justice at any cost.”

“Just so, sir; and you will get a hundred out of the business, any way,” replied O’Donovan, who had gauged the Consul’s morality pretty fairly.

As Otway and the detective walked towards the hotel known as “Johnny Hall’s” the former said lazily—­

“Look here, Mr. O’Donovan.  Are the skipper and myself to get those four hundred sovs to-morrow or not?  To tell you the exact truth, I have a fair amount of doubt about your promise.  Where are you going to get the money?”

“That’s all right, Mr. Otway.  You’re a business man.  And you and the skipper will have your two hundred each before one o’clock to-morrow.  The Consul is doing the necessary.”

“Right, my boy,” said Otway effusively.  “Now we’ll play a game or two at Johnny’s and have some fun with the girls.”

By eleven o’clock Mr. O’Donovan was comfortably half drunk, and Otway led him out on to the verandah to look at the harbour, shimmering under the starlight.  They sat down on two cane lounges, and the supercargo’s keen eye saw that Revel’s schooner had gone.  He breathed freely, and then brought Mr. O’Donovan a large whisky and soda.

* * * * *

In the morning Mr. O’Donovan and Mr. William Johns, the British Consul, were in a state of frenzy on discovering that Mr. and Mrs. Lacy had escaped during the night in the schooner Solafanua.  The Consul knew that Otway was at the bottom of the matter, but dared not say so, but O’Donovan, who had more pluck and nothing to lose, lost his temper and came on board the Tucopia just as she was being hauled up on the beach to get at the leak.

“You’re a dirty sweep,” he said to Otway.

The supercargo hit him between the eyes, and sent him down.  Allen picked him up, dumped him into the boat alongside, and sent him ashore.

When the Tucopia lay high and dry on Apia beach Otway and old Bruce walked round under her counter and looked for the leak.  As the skipper had surmised, a butt-end had started, but the gaping orifice was now choked and filled with a large piece of seaweed.

“The prayer of one of God’s ain ministers has saved us,” said the Scotch mate, pointing upward.

“No doubt,” replied Otway, who knew that the good old man had heard nothing of what had happened.

The Man in the Buffalo Hide