“It sounds wonderful and yet impossible,” cried Braddock, rubbing his bald head and walking excitedly to and fro. “See here, I'll come along with you and see how it's done.”
“You bet you won't, unless you shell out. See here”—Hervey leaned forward—“from that window business it's plain that no one inside the shanty corpsed your pal. The chap as did it entered and left by the window, and made tracks with that old corp you want. Now you pass along five hundred pounds—that's English currency, I reckon—and I'll smell round for the robber.”
“And where do you think I can obtain five hundred pounds?” asked the Professor very dryly.
“Well, I guess if that blamed corpse is worth it, you'll be willing to trade. Y'don't live in this shanty for nothing.”
“My good friend, I have enough to live on, and obtain this house at a small rent on account of its isolation. But I can no more find the sum of five hundred pounds than fly.”
Hervey rose and straightened his legs.
“Then I guess I'd best be getting back to Pierside.”
“One moment, sir. Did anything happen on the voyage?—did Bolton say anything likely to lead you to suppose that he was in danger of being robbed and murdered?”
“No,” said the skipper musingly, and pulling his goatee. “He told me that he had secured the old corpse, and was bringing it home to you. I didn't talk much to Bolton; he wasn't my style.”
“Have you any idea who killed him?”
“No, I ain't.”