Captain Hervey rose and took a turn up and down the room. When Cockatoo came in his way he calmly kicked him aside.
“What do you think, Mr. Hope?” he asked, coming to a full stop before Archie, while Cockatoo crept away with a very dark scowl.
“I don't know what to think,” replied that young gentleman promptly, “save that Sir Frank is my very good friend, and that I take his word that he knows nothing of how the manuscript came to be hidden in his bookcase.”
“Huh!” said Hervey scornfully, and took another turn up and down the room in silence. “I surmise that your friend isn't a white man.”
Hope leaped to his feet.
“That's a lie,” he said distinctly.
“I'd have shot you for that down Chili way,” snapped the skipper.
“Possibly,” retorted the artist dryly, “but I happen to be handy with my revolver also. I say again that you lie. Random is not the man to commit so foul a crime.”
“Then how did the manuscript get into his room?” questioned Hervey.
“He is trying to learn, and, when he does, will come here to let us all know, Captain Hervey. But I ask you on what grounds you accuse him? Oh I know all you said to-day,” added Hope scornfully, waving his hand; “but you can't prove that Random got the manuscript.”
“If it's in his room, as you acknowledge, I can,” said Hervey, speaking in a much more cultivated tone. “See here. As I said before, that copy must have been passed along with the corpse to the Maltese man. Well, then, the Professor here bought the corpse, and with it the manuscript.”