y honest to attempt now to protect his reputation for
truth-telling by uttering a small fib, albeit he squirmed inwardly at
the terrible necessity for such integrity.

"Ah! Then Nan called upon you again?"

Mr. Daney sighed.

"No, I called upon her."

"With reference to what?"

"To settle with her for the loss of the Brutus."

"When did you lose the Brutus."

Mr. Daney pulled at his ear, gazed at the porch light, rubbed his
Adam's apple, and gave the exact date.

"What happened to the Brutus?"

"She just disappeared, Donald. She was tied up alongside the barge--"

The heavy hand on Mr. Daney's shoulder tightened a little. Donald was
merely holding fast to the general manager in order to stay on his
feet, but Mr. Daney credited him with being the victim of rising
anger.

"When did Nan leave Port Agnew, Mr. Daney?"

"Let me see, Donald." Mr. Daney tugged at his beard. "Why, she left
two weeks ago yesterday. Yes; she left on the nineteenth."

"When did you settle with her for the loss of the Brutus?"

"On the sixteenth," Daney answered glibly.

"How much?"

"Twenty-five hundred dollars. It was more than the Brutus was worth,
but I disliked to appear niggardly in the matter, Donald. I knew you
and your father would approve whatever sum I settled for--and the loss
of the little boat provided a nice opportunity for generosity without
hurting the girl's pride."

"Yes--thank you, Mr. Daney. That was kind and thoughtful of you."
Donald spoke the words slowly, as if he searched his brain carefully
for each word and then had to coax his tongue into speaking it. "You
settled, then, two days after the boat disappeared. Fast work. Nobody
up here would steal the boat. Too much distance between ports--run
short of gasoline, you know, on her limited tank capacity--and if
anybody had purchased cased gasoline around here to load on deck,
you'd know of it. Hard to conceal or disguise a forty-foot boat, too."
His fingers closed like steel nippers over Mr. Daney's shoulder.
"Where did you hide the boat, Mr. Daney? Answer me. I'll not be
trifled with."

"I scuttled her--if you must have the truth."

"I knew you wouldn't lie to me. On whose orders, Mr. Daney? My
father's?"

"No, sir; it was my own idea." Daney's face was white with mental and
physical distress and red with confusion, by turns. His shoulder was
numb.

"Why?"

"I figured that if the girl had some money to make a new start
elsewhere, she'd leave Po