"Do you know what I've come for, Andree?" he asked.
"Oh, oui;" Andree shrugged her shoulders impatiently. "I suppose. Mais—I knew it would be you to find me. And it was you!"
She laughed in that light-hearted spirit which never let her see beyond the moment. And then Scott thrust Baxter aside. The intended hint had not reached him. He was swept beyond everything but his love and jealousy, and he put his hand on Andree's arm.
"Let her be," he said loudly. "She's my passenger aboard my ship, and I won't have her interfered with. Get away out of here. I'm an American citizen, and I don't care a cold cent for you or your uniform or that damned law of yours behind it! Get off my ship. Get away out of here!"
Dick half-turned, swinging Andree swiftly behind him.
"Leave him to me, Sergeant," he said; and Baxter understood. For many reasons—reasons which were beyond those which Baxter knew this was Dick's business only.
Scott's face was dead-white and his eyes were wild. He tried to pass Dick, but the policeman's solid bulk and superior height blocked him.
"What are you here for?" he shouted. "What do you want—you!"
"Would you like to know?" The smile on Dick's lips tightened. "Look at this then. No—you won't touch it."
Scott glanced over the warrant. He gave a deep groan, like a man struck in the chest, and he staggered as though he had been struck.
"You—you can't mean to do that?" he faltered. "You can't mean to do that?"
"Possibly my uniform and my law mean more than a cold cent to me," suggested Dick; and Scott looked straight at him.
"You devil!" he said.
The set smile was on Dick's face still. Keeling, the mate, came forward.
"What's he giving you, Cap'n?" he asked.
The question roused Scott again.
"Why didn't she tell me!" he cried. "Andree, Andree; why didn't you tell me! And I'd have taken you out if I'd lost half my catch over it. Ah—Andree!"
