"Come, come, Rawlins!" exclaimed Mr. Pauling in mollifying tones. "Major May is not to blame and I suppose there really was no reason for suspecting the _Devon_ to be the _Devonshire_."
Then, turning to the purple-faced officer. "Major," he said, "let me introduce Mr. Rawlins. He's our guide, philosopher, and friend, if I may quote a hackneyed saying. I don't know what we'd do without him. He and the boys are really responsible for all we've accomplished and he's famous for his hunches."
Rawlins grinned and grasped the inspector's hand and the latter, as quick to recover his temper as to lose it, smiled under his bristling white mustache. "Jolly glad to know you!" he declared. "Sorry if I offended you and all that. Bit peppery I expect--India and liver, you know. Curry, and all that sort of thing. Ah, yes--and the hunches--'pon my word, never heard of them. Sort of cocktail, are they not?"
The diver could not restrain his merriment and Mr. Pauling and the others grew scarlet.
"Not quite, Major," Rawlins managed to reply. "Don't know if I can explain it--Yankee term, sort of slang, meaning a premonition or something like it, a--well a hunch you know."
But the splenetic old veteran could take a joke even if on himself and roared with laughter at his own error.
"Jolly good thing, that about the _Devon_," he declared when all were on good terms once more. "Now we have a proper charge against these rascals you have. Couldn't see my way before--with no such ship as the bally old _Devonshire_. Couldn't accuse them of doing away with a ship that didn't exist, you know. All different now, though. Well, I must be off. Anything I can do, just call on me. Any plans in view?"
"I'll say we'd better beat it for Demerara," declared Rawlins before Mr. Pauling could reply. "If those devils are off in that seaplane, we may get 'em yet. They've got to land somewhere and they've got to come back. They can't fly clean across South America without gas."
"Righto!" agreed the inspector. "Cousin of mine inspector there, you know. Give him my regards. Good chap, Philip, rather new to his job, of course, and all that sort of thing--but smart chap. Yes, he'll do anything to help you, rather!"
"Now, what's this big idea about going to Demerara?" asked Mr. Pauling, after the inspector had left accompanied by his men and with the surly prisoners securely handcuffed.