shion--two gallant gentlemen
who trade in human misery."

Ten years since Captain Blaise had done any slave-running, and Rimmle,
who knew that, was slave-running still, and so he did not quite know how
to take this outburst.

Neither did I. Where Captain Blaise was sincere and where talking for
effect I could not have said; but surely he was moulding Rimmle like
jelly; and now looking out from under his eyebrow at Rimmle, but his
lips curved in a smile, he selected a cheroot and lit it, and lit
another for Rimmle, who now smiled too. And cheroot followed cheroot,
and story story, and drink drink, and the agent gurgled with joy of the
intimacy. "What adventures you have had, Captain, and"--he blew a cloud
to the cabin roof--"what stories!"

"Adventures? Stories?" Captain Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "Well
enough, Rimmle, in their way. 'Tis true I can tell of blockades evaded
and corvettes slipped, of customs officers bedevilled, of tricks on
slow-tacking junks, and of dancing with creoles under the moon. But what
is that? The heedless, unplanned adventuring of an irresponsible
American captain. Now you, if you cared to talk, Rimmle, you, I warrant,
could tell of big things, things which concern great people--of
admirals and governors and what not; for you, it is well known, Rimmle,
have your own bureau of information."

Rimmle chuckled. "It is true"--and then he paused. Captain Blaise
refilled their glasses. In courtly imitation of the Captain, Rimmle
raised his and they drank.

Captain Blaise filled them up again. "Men like myself, Rimmle, are but
pawns in this trading game. It is the people on the inside, the Governor
of Momba and gentlemen like you, who direct the play."

Rimmle smacked his lips. "M-m--To be sure, the Governor of Momba--"

There was a half-hour of anecdotes of the Governor of Momba and his son
before Cunningham's name was even mentioned; and when the question of
him was slipped, so casually was it slipped that I, with senses
astretch, did not realize that this must be the sick man at Momba--not
until the next question was put.

"But there must have been something else, Rimmle, between the Governor
and Cunningham?"

Now, had they been drinking ordinary wine or heavy ale, Rimmle might
have held his own. But this was a rare vintage, a delicate bouquet meant
for a finer breed than Rimmle. His tongue was still limber but his wits
were fled. He was vain to display to the famous Captain Blaise h