“I think we have done business together, Mr.--er--Talham.” “Is it Talham?” asked the other innocently. “I seem to remember another name. May I sit down?” Tillizinni apologised, and pushed forward two chairs, and the men seated themselves. They were both in evening dress; in De Costa senior’s shirt front blazed a diamond even larger than that which his son affected on such occasions. “I may recall to you, Mr. Talham”--there was an offensive little pause before the name--“that I am engaged in the shipping trade. I sometimes send cargoes to South America”--he smiled again--“and sometimes to China.” “That is very interesting,” said Talham. “I think shipping is one of the most fascinating branches of commercial endeavour.” “I am glad you think so,” said the old De Costa. “Sometimes,” he continued, “I find it necessary to engage a super-cargo to carry out the more delicate and intricate negotiations which are sometimes associated with the transference of the goods shipped.” Talham nodded. “I quite understand the functions of the super-cargo,” he said. “Some years ago,” the old man went on reminiscently, “I had to send rather an important cargo to one of the islands of the West Pacific.” He shrugged his shoulders and waved his hands in one motion. “I cannot recall exactly where the cargo was to land, or what it consisted of; but I have a most vivid recollection of a gentleman who called upon me at my office in Little Saville Street on one occasion. And I also remember having engaged him to carry out certain duties. In so engaging him it was necessary to take him into my confidence, to an extent”--he smiled. “For instance, I had to explain that he would pick up a collier at a certain point at sea, and that he would land bales of hardware in a very difficult place.” “In the Philippines,” said Talham cheerily. “And it was not hardware, but rifles, if I remember rightly.” “As to that,” the other hastened to say, “I have no distinct recollection. At any rate there was an accident: my coal was stolen, my collier, which I specially chartered to meet my ship, was met by another. The coal was stolen, I repeat. Later my ship was held up by a make-believe warship, and the merchandise was removed, against the captain’s wish. That Mr.--er--Talham, was piracy.” “It was piracy,” admitted Talham pleasantly. “A gross act of piracy, undoubtedly.” “I am glad you agree,” said De Costa. “What would you call the act of running guns for half-breed Philippians?” asked Captain Talham. The old man flushed. It was not the accusation which annoyed him; it was that horrid word “half-breed.” “That would not be piracy,” continued Talham drily. “That would be just an act contrary to every civilised law. Yes,” he said, “I am Talham. I don’t need to hide it from you. What I really called myself in those days does not matter. I took your coal; I took your rifles. The rifles you were sending to niggers to enable them to shoot white men.”