Jane and Dennison were alone. "I wonder," he said, "are we two awake, or
are we having the same nightmare?"

"The way he hugs his word! Imagine a man stepping boldly and mockingly
outside the pale, and carrying along his word unsullied with him! He's
mad, Denny, absolutely mad! The poor thing!"

That phrase seemed to liberate something in his mind. The brooding
oppression lifted its siege. His heart was no longer a torture chamber.

"I ought to be his partner, Jane. I'm as big a fool as he is. Who but a
fool would plan and execute a game such as this? But he's sound on one
point. It's a colossal joke."

"But your father?"

"Cunningham will have to dig a pretty deep hole somewhere if he expects to
hide successfully. It's a hundred-to-one shot that father will never see
his rug again. He probably realizes that, and he will be relentless. He'll
coal at Manila and turn back. He'll double or triple the new crew's wages.
Money will mean nothing if he starts after Cunningham. Of course I'll be
out of the picture at Manila."

"Do you know why your father kidnaped me so easily? I thought maybe I
could find a chink in his armour and bring you two together."

"And you've found the job hopeless!" Dennison shrugged.

"Won't you tell me what the cause was?"