“More you’ll get, if you try to rush me.” Tony’s voice rang hollow within the walls. “I’m better at it, too, than that young red-headed savage, there.” He paused. “I tell you. There’s just one way out o’ this nonsense. Send Miles Bissant in here. I can trust him. We’ll splice things up. Fair play, now, and flag o’ truce, mind you! Him alone, or I’ll--” “That’s fair,” said Miles, and stepped forward. Old-Hab clutched his arm. “It’s a trick!” he whispered. “Don’t ye go, Mile. It’s a trick! He might--ye may git hurt--” “Somebody may, anyhow,” Miles answered, pulling free. “Keep your men back.” He walked to the foot of the lighthouse, and called, “Here you are, Tony.” The door swung barely enough to let him squeeze through, and slammed at once. In the gloom, he heard the lock click, and Tony laugh quietly. “Lucky I forgot to give up my key! Got yours with you?” Miles fumbled in his pockets. “No,” he answered. “Good boy! Great!” The sailor swore joyfully under his breath. “They haven’t caught me yet! Come topside where I can see you.” They climbed the stairs, and, blinking at the sudden daylight glare in the lamp-room, sat face to face on opposite edges of the trap-door. Tony laid his pistol at his thigh, leaned back against a coil of rope, and swung his feet comfortably in the lower darkness. “It’s bad pidgin,” he said, frowning. “Bad. Only some revenue skunk, but then! What business has a dead man to look so beastly respectable, all at once? Damn it!” Heaving his shoulders, he laughed scornfully. “Abe was getting ready to sell me out. The price, I fancy, was where they disagreed.” He spat down the stairway, in disgust. “Funny,” he continued after a pause; “you’re the only person _would_ believe me. It’s just Abe’s word against mine, and he’s got clear. If they catch me--Humph! Finish!” He patted the coil of rope, and dropped head on shoulder, in a shocking pantomime. “But you’re the one I expected to founder on, not Abe. Ever since you sighted old Quong that night--you remember? The Chinaman: he bought for me. And yet here you sit, the one man to believe me!”--He leaned across, clapped Miles on the shoulder, and shook him gently. His face lighted, very grave and simple. “Lied to you so much, I don’t--Anyhow, God bless you, old Sober-sides!” He leaned back again, laughed as though ashamed, and swung his feet vigorously. “Opium was our game,” he said. “Tidy consignment stowed across the river. If I could once get over, and see Graves, the rest is all greased ways. I’d have made it, too, but that young red-head” (he raised a tattered shirt-sleeve) “nearly blew my arm off. We’ve seen enough of that. But we’ll see worse, unless you do what I ask you. They’re fools, but no cowards; that’s what I figure on--Just one way; do it, and all’s right and tight, every man Jack, safe and sound. Will you?” “What is it?” said Miles. “I came up here to make terms.”