"That indeed is my claim!" cried Fuscule furiously.

"Are those likely events? Soldinck is notorious for his parsimony! Never would he offer five thousand terces for a worm worth at best two thousand! How do you explain such a paradox?"

"I am a worminger, not a student of weird psychological mysteries," grumbled Fuscule. "Still, now that I reflect on it, the man who called himself Soldinck stood a head taller than this little toad. He also wore an unusual hat of several folds, and walked with his legs bent at the knees."

Soldinck spoke excitedly: "The description might well fit the villain who recommended me to the hut of Terlulia! He walked with a stealthy gait, and called himself Fuscule."

"Aha!" said Pulk. "Affairs are starting to sort themselves out. Let us find a booth in the club-house and approach our inquiry properly, over a jug of good black beer!"

"The concept is sound but in this case unnecessary," said Drofo. "I can already put a name to the individual at fault."

Captain Baunt said: "I also have an intuition in this regard."

Soldinck looked resentfully from face to face. "Am I then so dense? Who is this person?"

"Can there be any more doubt?" asked Drofo. "His name is Cugel."

Soldinck blinked, then clapped his hands together. "That is a reasonable deduction!"

Pulk spoke in gentle admonition: "Now that the guilty person has been identified, it appears that you owe Fuscule an apology."

The memory of Fuscule's blows still rankled with Soldinck. "I will feel more generous when he returns the five hundred terces I paid him for his worm. And never forget: it was he who accused me of throwing away his chister. Apologies are due from the other direction."

"You are still confused," said Pulk. "The five hundred terces were paid to Cugel."

"Possibly so. Still, I feel that careful inquiries are in order."

Captain Baunt turned to look around the bystanders. "I thought that I saw him a few minutes ago. . . . He seems to have slipped away."

For a fact, as soon as he had seen which way the wind was blowing, Cugel had taken himself in haste to the Galante. Madame Soldinck was in the cabin, acquainting her daughters with the events of the day. No one was on hand to interfere as Cugel ran here and there about the ship. He dropped the gang-plank, threw off the mooring-lines, pulled hoods from the worms and placed triple bait in the hoppers, then ran up to the quarter-deck and threw the wheel hard over.

At the club-house Soldinck was saying: "I distrusted him from the start! Still, who could imagine such protean depravity?"

Bunderwal, the supercargo, concurred. "Cugel, while plausible, is nonetheless a bit of a scoundrel."

"He must now be summoned to an accounting," said Captain Baunt. "It is always an unpleasant task."

"Not all that unpleasant," muttered Fuscule.

"We must give him a fair hearing, and the sooner the better. I fancy the club-house will serve as well as any for our forum."