“Have you any money?—answer me that first.” “Not a penny piece.” “Then you will as surely die as eggs are eggs, that’s all.” “What do you mean?” “Couldn’t you manage to get some money, by fair means or foul?” “Why?” “Oh, nothing; but it’s possible you might only be transported if you could raise a thousand pounds to pay lawyers to defend you, and—ah—” “And what?” “Why, ‘palm’ Colonel Blood and myself, that’s all. The affidavits are not made out yet. I have only taken you on suspicion, you know.” “I understand.” “But then the suspicion is very strong, you know—very, very strong indeed; it almost amounts to a dead certainty, since we’ve got the identical suit of clothes ‘a certain party’ exchanged, on the night of the murder, with young Bob Bertram.” Captain Jack smiled as he said this. Phillip bit his lip. “How did you procure the clothes?” “Ned Warbeck gave the suit to me this very morning, for Bob had kept them by him, and young Warbeck says he could swear they belong to——” “D—n Ned Warbeck!” said Phillip Redgill, in a terrible rage; “D—n him! he is always crossing my path. I wish he were dead; yes, buried at the bottom of the ocean he loves so much!” “Aye, but there’s no killing a lad like him,” said Captain Jack; “he’s got more lives than a cat, and as to drowning, it’s out of the question, for he swims like a duck and can float like a cork.” “Then what do you propose?” “I can’t propose anything if you can’t raise the wind. If you will be hanged, it’s your fault, not mine. It would suit me to know you were in a penal settlement quite as well as to know you were buried.” “You are quite disinterested, Captain Jack, and very polite.” “I always was.” “But suppose I do not give you money, that I do not hang or be transported—what then?” “Oh, that’s impossible; out of the question entirely; you must do one thing or the other. Do you refuse to raise the money?” “No. I do not.” “Well, then, I have got pens, ink, and paper in my pocket; write a note, and I will take it to any place you like.” “You are a cunning rascal, Captain Jack.” “No matter; time is flying—there is no use of wasting compliments. Can you raise the amount by writing for it?” “In a case of life or death I think I could.” “Well, that’s sensible. Here is the pen.” “But suppose I refuse?” “Well, then, you are a doomed man, that’s all, and there’s an end of it. Good-day!” “Stay; do not go yet. Upon second thought, I think I will write a note. Will you wait for an answer?” “Of course, if the money is likely to be forthcoming.” “But it’s contrary to the rules of the prison to write letters unknown to the governor, you know.” “Oh, the governor be d——d! What matters? He’ll not know a syllable about it. Here you are; scribble away.” Phillip Redgill took the pen and paper. “Go out for a minute, Captain Jack, and stretch your legs. By the time you return I shall have the note written.” Captain Jack strolled out of the cell carelessly.