a man of a presidential campaign."

"All very well," said I. "That's your Hoyt, and a fine, tall copy. But
what I want to know is, where is Trent's Hoyt?"

"Took it with him," chuckled Nares. "He had left everything else, bills
and money and all the rest; he was bound to take something, or it would
have aroused attention on the Tempest: 'Happy thought,' says he, 'let's
take Hoyt.'"

"And has it not occurred to you," I went on, "that all the Hoyts in
creation couldn't have misled Trent, since he had in his hand that red
admiralty book, an official publication, later in date, and particularly
full on Midway Island?"

"That's a fact!" cried Nares; "and I bet the first Hoyt he ever saw
was out of the mercantile library of San Francisco. Looks as if he had
brought her here on purpose, don't it? But then that's inconsistent with
the steam-crusher of the sale. That's the trouble with this brig racket;
any one can make half a dozen theories for sixty or seventy per cent
of it; but when they're made, there's always a fathom or two of slack
hanging out of the other end."

I believe our attention fell next on the papers, of which we had
altogether a considerable bulk. I had hoped to find among these matter
for a full-length character of Captain Trent; but here I was doomed, on
the whole, to disappointment. We could make out he was an orderly man,
for all his bills were docketed and preserved. That he was convivial,
and inclined to be frugal even in conviviality, several documents
proclaimed. Such letters as we found were, with one exception, arid
notes from tradesmen. The exception, signed Hannah Trent, was a somewhat
fervid appeal for a loan. "You know what misfortunes I have had to
bear," wrote Hannah, "and how much I am disappointed in George. The
landlady appeared a true friend when I first came here, and I thought
her a perfect lady. But she has come out since then in her true colours;
and if you will not be softened by this last appeal, I can't think what
is to become of your affectionate----" and then the signature. This
document was without place or date, and a voice told me that it had gone
likewise without answer. On the whole, there were few letters anywhere
in the ship; but we found one before we were finished, in a seaman's
chest, of which I must transcribe some sentences. It was dated from some
place on the Clyde. "My dearist son," it ran, "this is to tell you your
dearist father passed away, Jan twelft, in the