on speak bad English, ver' bad." Pierre's words cut in
like keen-edged steel. "On ze odder side ze door, it not mek so much
mattaire."

Morrison left the room without a word further. There was a look of
sullen satisfaction on his face. Hartwell smiled approvingly at Pierre.

"You've got your man cinched all right."

"Hall but ze tongue." Pierre shrugged his shoulders, with a slight wave
of his hands.

"Well," Hartwell resumed, "I want to get at the bottom of this stage
business. Fifty thousand doesn't matter so much to us; it's the thing
back of it. What I want to know is whether it was an accident, or
whether it was a hold-up."

"Feefty tousand dollaire!" Pierre spoke musingly. "She bin a lot of
monnaie. A whole lot." Pierre hesitated, then looked up at Hartwell.

"Well?" Hartwell asked.

"How you know she bin feefty tousand dollaire hin ze safe?"

"Mr. Firmstone advised me of its shipment."

"_Bien!_ Ze safe, where she bin now?"

"In the river."

"A-a-ah! You bin see her, heh?"

"No. The water's too high."

"When ze wattaire bin mek ze godown, you bin find her, heh?"

"I suppose so."

"_Bien!_ Mek ze suppose. When ze wattaire mek ze godown, you not find ze
safe?"

To some extent, Hartwell had anticipated Pierre's drift, but he
preferred to let him take his own course.

"It would look as if someone had got ahead of us."

Pierre waved his hand impatiently. "Feefty tousand dollaire bin whole
lot monnaie. Big lot men like feefty tousand dollaire, ver' big lot.
Bimeby somebody get ze safe. Zey find no feefty tousand dollaire--only
pig lead, heh?" Pierre looked up shrewdly. "Ze men no mek ze talk 'bout
feefty tousand dollaire, no mek ze talk 'bout honly pig lead, heh?"

"You think, then, the bullion was never put into the safe?" Hartwell had
hardly gone so far as Pierre. "In other words, that Mr. Firmstone kept
out the bullion, planned the wreck, caused the report to be spread that
there was fifty thousand in the safe, with the idea of either putting it
out of the way himself, or that someone else would get it?"

Pierre looked up with well-feigned surprise.

"_Moi?_" he asked. "_Moi?_" He shrugged his shoulders. "I mek ze fact,
ze suppose. You mek ze conclude."

Hartwell looked puzzled.

"But," he said, "if what you say is true, there is no other conclusion."

Pierre again shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

"_Bien!_ I mek no conclude. You mek ze conclude. Ze suppose mek ze
conclude. She's