iquor?" continued Captain Boomsby, when he had
properly admonished me in regard to the snakes.

"I don't know, sir," I replied. "Who was the man that followed Nick?"

"That was Peverell."

"Who is Peverell?" I asked. "What does he do?"

"He is the messenger, I believe they call him, of the First National
Bank of Florida."

"That explains it all, then," I added, beginning to understand the
situation.

"I don't see nothin'. What explains it all?" demanded the captain,
testily.

"Peverell had a package when he came in. He put it on the counter
before he poured out his dram," I explained. "When Nick went over the
counter the package was gone. If Peverell is the messenger of a bank, I
have no doubt the bundle contained money in bank notes."

"Creation! You don't! But what made Nick go over the bar so like a
hoppergrass?" exclaimed the saloon-keeper.

"I don't know. I can only understand what I saw."

"If Nick's got that bundle of money, he's smart," added Captain
Boomsby.

"Do you think it was smart to steal it, captain?" I asked, mildly.

"How big a package was it, Sandy?" replied my tyrant, turning away from
the moral question.

"It was at least two inches thick."

"Creation! Then there ain't less than a thousand dollars in it!"

"Let us hope that Nick did not take it," I added.

"Well, you go out, Sandy, and see where Nick's gone. I can't leave both
bars without anybody to look out for 'em, for them niggers will come in
and steal the liquor as quick as they will chickens."

I was interested to know the meaning of what I had seen in the saloon,
and I went out into Bay Street. A crowd of men were rushing towards a
narrow street leading down to the river. I followed them, and, near the
landing-place of the Charleston steamers, I saw a colored policeman lay
violent hands on the rough-looking person who had walked into the
saloon, looked into the negro bar, and then retreated.

Nick was on the spot, hatless and coatless, almost as soon as the
policeman had grabbed his victim. Mr. Peverell was only a moment
behind. By this time I had framed an explanation of what had transpired
in the saloon which satisfied me for the moment, whether it was correct
or not. While Peverell was concocting his beverage--and he had seemed
to me to be very dainty and particular in the preparation of it--he had
almost turned his back upon the package on the counter.

I was not bestowing any particular attention upon the rough-l