“Something’s wrong, Brains, something’s wronger than a fixed fight.
The captain’s framing something. He’s let Garvin in on it. What is
it—what is it? Can you dope it out?”
“No. Perhaps you’re mistaken.”
“Don’t talk that way; you know better’n that. Come to bat. Didn’t you
hear him say this’d get him more’n he ever got in a fight? Garvin’s
got thousands. The cap’s framed something, and he’s taken Garvin in.
Now, what is it? I’ve had a hunch something was going on. I’m all ice
below the ankles. What d’you s’pose they’re going to do? By God! I
wouldn’t put it past ’em to steal the yacht!”
“Easy, Pierce,” I laughed. “People don’t do such things nowadays.”
“‘People don’t’? D’you call Brack and Garvin ‘people’? Garvin’s a
gorilla and the captain’s—Brack. Come on. Brains, can’t you dope out
what they’re framing?”
“Roll yourself a cigaret,” I advised laughingly. “If you’re so eager
to find out what Brack is planning, suppose we ask him?”
“Don’t,” he sputtered, horrified. “Don’t do anything like that.”
“Why not?”
“‘Why not?’” he repeated, growing calm. “Oh, just because I kind o’
like your company and I don’t want you to go overboard into the
briny.”