that, Gibbs? Yes, I know we shall make a bum trip. It's rotten coal we've got in the bunkers. Australian always is. I don't believe we're doing more than seven knots at this minute, and the Lord have mercy on our souls if a typhoon strikes us. When I see the skipper I'll tell him—oh, yes, I keep forgetting he's a dead 'un. There he is again, curse him! Murdock, for the love of Mike, leave me in peace—"
In a flash his manner changed. A look that might have been cunning came into his face.
"I suppose," he said slowly and with strange deliberation, "I suppose it's those two pearls you're after, eh, Murdock? I know. I can read your mind. Yes, if it gives you any satisfaction to hear it, I've got 'em, but they're not for you. A pretty pair, they are, too. It's no use looking like that. You don't want pearls in hell, Murdock. Get out of this, or—" his face lighted up with anger once more—"or I'll crack your skull again."
The paroxysm had burnt itself out. Keith sank back limp and shivering, with his eyes closed.
Chester, listening, had been biting his lips. He turned round slowly to his sister with raised eyebrows, but Joan's gaze remained on the patient.
Chester drummed the ends of his fingers on the edge of a table.
"That's—that's not what I should have expected of him," he said at last to his sister, in a low voice.
