Mr. Chalk stood by in sorrowful perplexity.

"And I put my life in your hands," continued the captain, with a low,
hard laugh. "You're the, only man in the world that knows who killed
Smiling Peter in San Francisco, and I told you. Well, well!"

"But you did it in self-defence," said the other, eagerly.

"What does that matter?" said the captain, turning and walking forward,
followed by the anxious Mr. Chalk. "I've got no proof of it. Open your
mouth--once--and I swing for it. That's the extent of my trust in you."

Mr. Chalk, much affected, swore a few sailorly oaths as to what he wished
might happen to him if he ever betrayed the other's confidence.

"Yes," said the captain, mournfully, "that's all very well; but you can't
trust me in a smaller matter, however much I swear to keep it secret.
And it's weighing on me in another way: I believe the crew have got an
inkling of something, and here am I, master of the ship, responsible for
all your lives, kept in ignorance."

"The crew!" ejaculated the startled Mr. Chalk.

Captain Brisket hesitated and lowered his voice. "The other night I came
on deck for a look round and saw one of them peeping down through your
skylight," he said, slowly. "I sent him below, and after he'd gone I
looked down and saw you and Mr. Tredgold and Stobell all bending over a
paper."