Part 156

“I insist on that, too, Captain Wass,” said Mayo, with indignation. “Hand over those papers.”

“Can't be done, for I haven't got 'em with me. And I won't hand 'em over till I have used them in my business.”

“I shall have you arrested,” announced Marston.

“So do. Sooner the whole thing gets before the court, the better.” His perfect calmness had its effect on the financier.

“What are you proposing to use those papers for?”

“To make you pirates turn back the Vose line property and pay damages. As to the rest of your combination, the critters that's in it can skin their own skunks. I guess the whole thing will take care of itself after we get the Vose line back.”

“You are asking for an impossibility. The matter cannot be arranged.”

“Then we'll see how far Uncle Sam can go in unscrambling that particular nestful of eggs. I'll give the papers to the government.”

“Haven't you any influence with this man?” Marston asked the astounded Mayo.

“No, he hasn't--not a mite in this case,” returned Captain Wass. “He needs a guardeen in some things, and I'm serving as one just now.”

“You must get them from him--you must, Captain Mayo,” cried the girl. “I did not understand what I was doing.”

“I will get them.”

“I'd like to see you do it, son!”

He turned on the Wall Street man. “I'm only asking for what is rightfully due my own people. I'm a man of few words and just now I'm sticking close to schedule. Until eleven o'clock to-night you'll find Vose, myself, and our lawyers at the Nicholas Hotel. After eleven o'clock we shall be in bed because we've got to get an early start for the wreck out on Razee. We're going to finance that job. And in case we don't come to terms with you tonight we shall use our club to keep you out of our business after this. You know what the club is.”

Marston was too busily engaged with Captain Wass to pay heed to his daughter. She went close to Mayo and whispered.

“You must quit them, Boyd. It's for my sake. You must help my father. They are wretches. Think of what it will mean to you if you can help us! You will do it. Promise me!”

He did not reply.

“Do you dare to hesitate for one moment--when I ask you--for my sake?”

“That's my last word,” bawled Captain Wass. “There's no blackmail about it--we're only taking back what's our own.”

“Are you one of those--creatures?” she asked, indignantly.

If she had shown one spark of sympathy or real understanding in that crisis of their affairs, if she had not been so much, in that moment, the daughter of Julius Marston, counseling selfishness, he might have fatuously continued to coddle his romance, in spite of all that had preceded. But her eyes were hard. Her voice had the money-chink in it. He started, like a man awakened. His old cap had fallen on the carpet. He picked it up.

“Good-by!” he said. “I have found out where I belong in this world.”

And in that unheroic fashion ended something which, so he then realized, should never have been begun. He followed Captain Wass across the saloon.

“Better advise your buckos to be careful how they handle them grate-bars,” shouted Captain Wass. “I'm loaded, and if I'm joggled I'm liable to explode.”

They were not molested when they left the yacht. The doryman who had brought Captain Wass rowed them to the wharf.

“Those papers--” Mayo had ventured, soon after they left the yacht's side.

“Not one word about 'em!” yelped the old skipper. “It's my business--entire! When the time comes right I'll show you that it's my private business. I never allow anybody to interfere in that.”

That night, after the conference at the hotel, and after Julius Marston, growling profanity, had put his name to certain papers, drawn by careful lawyers, Captain Wass explained why the matter of the sealed packet was his private business. He took Marston apart from the others for the purpose of explaining.