“Listen,” said the houseboat man. “When you came and lit that beastly thing that made such a mess of my cabin roof, you cleared off round the point. I came up and put the fire out, and guessed at once what you had done. But you may not know that about half an hour afterwards I came on deck again, and saw you sailing across the mouth of the bay. Think I can’t recognise a boat when I see it? You’ve the mast out of her today, but I’d seen her several times before, and you in her.”
“We saw you that day. You were shaking your fist.”
“Ah. You saw that, did you?”
“But I didn’t set fire to your boat. I never touched your boat. This is the first time I’ve been near her, except once sailing to Rio, when you were sitting on the deck, and saw us too.”
“Who did set fire to her, then?” said the houseboat man.
John said nothing. It would never do to give the Amazons away.
“There were four of you in the boat,” said the houseboat man. “But you were the biggest. You ought to know better than to let the others do a thing like that, even if you didn’t do it yourself.”
“We didn’t do it at all,” said John.
“Clear out,” said the houseboat man. “I’ve nothing more to say to you.”
“But I came to tell you …”
“Clear out,” said the houseboat man. “I don’t like talking to liars.”
“But …”
“Clear out, and don’t come near the houseboat again.”
John choked. He went very red and stood up in the boat.