tongue. "But this thing will go
through--I feel it. I will have had my fun, and you will have loaned your
treasures to me for eight months, and Eisenfeldt will have his principal
back without interest. The treasures go directly to a bank vault. There
will be two receipts, one dated September--mine; and one dated
November--Eisenfeldt's. I hate Eisenfeldt. He's tricky; his word isn't
worth a puff of smoke; he's ready at all times to play both ends from the
middle. I want to pay him out for crossing my path in several affairs.
He's betting that I will find no pearls. So to-morrow I will exhibit the
rug and the Da Vinci to convince him, and he will advance the cash. Can't
you see the sport of it?"

"That would make very good reading," said Cleigh, scraping the shell of
his avocado pear. "I can get you on piracy."

"Prove it! You can say I stole the yacht, but you can't prove it. The crew
is yours; you hired it. The yacht returns to you to-morrow without a
scratch on her paint. And the new crew will know absolutely nothing, being
as innocent as newborn babes. Cleigh, you're no fool. What earthly chance
have you got? You love that rug. You're not going to risk losing it
positively, merely to satisfy a thirst for vengeance. You're human. You'll
rave and storm about for a few days, then you'll accept the game as it
lies. Think of all the excitement you'll have when a telegram arrives or
the phone rings! I told you it was a whale of a joke; and in late October
you'll chuckle. I know you, Cleigh. Down under all that tungsten there is
the place of laughter. It will be better to laugh by yourself than to have
the world laugh at you. Hoist by his own petard! There isn't a newspaper
syndicate on earth that wouldn't give me a fortune for just the yarn. Now,
I don't want the world to laugh at you, Cleigh."

"Considerate of you."

"Because I know what that sort of laughter is. Could you pick up the old
life, the clubs? Could a strong man like you exist in an atmosphere of
suppressed chuckles? Mull it over. If these treasures were honourably
yours I'd never have thought of touching them. But you haven't any more
right to them than I have, or Eisenfeldt."

Dennison leaned back in his chair. He began to laugh.

"Cunningham, my apologies," he said. "I thought you were a scoundrel, and
you are only a fool--the same brand as I! I've been aching to wring your
neck, but that would have been a pity. For eight months life will be full
of in