red, I know nothing--nor does anybody on board this
craft. You and Miss Raven are amongst--well, you can call us pirates
if you like, buccaneers, adventurers, anything!--but we're not
murderers. We know nothing whatever about the murders of Noah and
Salter Quick--except what we've read in the papers."

I believed him. And I made haste to say so--out of a sheer relief to
know that Miss Raven was not amongst men whose hands were stained with
blood.

"Thank you," he said, as coolly as ever. "I'm obliged to you. I've
been anxious enough to know who did murder those two men. As I say, I
felt no surprise when I heard of the murders."

"You knew them--the Quicks?" I suggested.

"Did I?" he answered with a cynical laugh. "Didn't I? They were a
couple of rank bad 'uns! I have never professed sanctity, Mr.
Middlebrook, but Noah and Salter Quick were of a brand that's far
beyond me--they were bad men. I'll tell you more of 'em, later--here's
Miss Raven."

"I may as well tell you," I murmured hastily, "that Miss Raven knows
as much as I do about all that I've just told you."

"That so?" he said. "Um! And she looks a sensible sort of lass,
too--well, I'll tell you both what I know--as I say, later. But
now--some tea!"

While he went forward to give his orders, I contrived to inform Miss
Raven of the gist of our recent conversation, and to assert my own
private belief in Baxter's innocence. I saw that she was already
prejudiced in his favour.

"I'm glad to know that," she said. "But in that case--the mystery's
all the deeper. What is it, I wonder, that he can tell."

"Wait till he speaks," said I. "We shall learn something."

Baxter came back, presently followed by the little Chinaman whom I had
seen before, who deftly set up a small table on deck, drew chairs
round it, and a few minutes later spread out all the necessaries of a
dainty afternoon tea. And in the centre of them was a plum cake. I saw
Miss Raven glance at it; I glanced at her; I knew of what she was
thinking. Her thoughts had flown to the plum cake at Lorrimore's, made
by Wing, his Chinese servant.

But whatever we thought, we said nothing. The situation was romantic,
and not without some attraction, even in those curious circumstances.
Here we were, prisoners, first-class prisoners, if you will, but still
prisoners, and there was our gaoler; he and ourselves sat round a
tea-table, munching toast, nibbling cakes and dainties, sipping
fragrant tea, as if w