“And a fine knife it is,” Travers responded, inclining his head. “It would be such a shame if it were to get wet. And your pistols, Mr. Hotchkiss—I don’t imagine they stand up well to submersion?”

Cal and Houndstooth stared at each other for a long moment. The boat creaked as they watched each other. Travers cleared his throat, and they both lowered their weapons.

“Very good. Now, I’m sure you gentlemen would like to have a civilized discussion over drinks at the bar? On the house.” He waved an arm toward the door. The two men hesitated, neither wanting to walk in front of the other—but after a beat, Houndstooth put his grey hat on, tipping it to Travers.

“I’ll be waiting for you with a whiskey, Calhoun, old friend. We’ve got business to discuss.”

He walked out without a backwards glance. Cal made to follow, but Travers put out a hand before Cal got to the door. Cal stopped before Travers so much as touched him.

“Now, what precisely do you suppose he’s doing here?” Travers murmured, his voice as silky as a snake’s belly sliding over a bed of marsh grass.

“I got no damn idea,” Cal growled. Travers considered him for a long, silent minute. “I said I don’t know,” Cal said, his eyes flicking away from Travers’. “And whatever it is you’re thinking you’ll ask me to do about it, I ain’t doin’.”

In just three unhurried steps, Travers crossed the room and was behind the chair near the window, where Cal had been sitting. He stooped, looking like a heron that had spotted a fish. When he straightened, he was holding three playing cards. He held them up where Cal could see them. Cal’s face didn’t so much as twitch. Travers dropped the cards onto the felt of the table and spread them out with the manicured tip of his index finger.

“Three Queens. Were these insurance against losing, or did they come in handy at some point while you were fleecing my customers?”

Cal shook his head as his lips went white. Travers held up a quelling finger.

“Shhh, no, don’t try to lie to me, Mr. Hotchkiss. You were cheating. You were stealing from me. Oh, yes, I know, you weren’t stealing my money, Mr. Hotchkiss—but you’ve tarnished my name. You’ve put my reputation into question, and you’ve made me look foolish.” His voice hadn’t risen above a murmur, but it dripped with menace. He whipped the silk pocket square from his jacket and, turning to the open window, laid it across the broad sill. “You realize that this is your second warning?”

Cal nodded.

“And you realize, don’t you, that there will not be a third warning?”

Cal nodded again.

“Let’s just be sure, why don’t we? It always pays to be thorough. Come here.”