Mr. Trenholm."

"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 ciga