Part 155

“I gave it to a man named Captain Wass.”

Again they heard the voice outside. “I don't care if he is busy! I tell you to take word to Captain Mayo that he is wanted right away on his schooner. Tell him it's Captain Wass.”

“The devil has sent that man along at about the right time,” declared Marston. He strode to the companion-way. “Inform Captain Wass that he is wanted on board here! Hide those bars till he is below!”

He came back, raging, and stood between Mayo and the girl, who had seemed to find words inadequate during the short time they had been left together.

“I don't believe anything you tell me! There's an infernal trick, here. The papers are missing. Somebody has them.”

His fury blinded his prudence.

He strode toward Captain Wass when the old mariner came stumping down the companionway.

“Is your name Wass?”

“Captain Wass, sir.”

“You took papers from my daughter and brought them to this man!”

“Correct.”

Marston stepped back and kicked at the blank sheets on the floor.

“Perhaps you can tell me if these are what you brought.”.

Captain Wass stared long at Mayo, at the girl, and at the incensed magnate. Then he looked down at the scattered papers and scratched his head with much deliberation.

“Why don't you say something?” demanded Marston.

“I'm naturally slow and cautious,” stated Captain Wass. He put on his spectacles, kneeled on the soft carpet, and examined the blank papers and the broken seals. He laid them back on the carpet and meditated for some time, still on his knees. When he looked up, peering over the edge of his spectacles, he paid no attention to Mar-ston, to the latter's indignant astonishment.

“Vose and others are waiting for us at the hotel,” he informed Captain Mayo, “and it's important business, and we'd better be tending to it instead of fooling around here.”

“No matter about any other business except this, sir,” cried Marston.

“There can't be much business mixed up in a lot of blank sheets of paper,” snapped Captain Wass. “What's the matter?”

“I have lost valuable papers.”

The old skipper bent shrewd squint at the angry man who was standing over him. “Steamer combination papers, hey?”

“You seem to know pretty well.”

“Ought to know.”

“Why?”

Captain Wass rose slowly, with grunts, and rubbed his stiff knees. “Because I've got 'em.”

“Stole them from the package, did you?”

“It wasn't stealing--it was business.”

“Hand them over.”