"What scrape did he get into?" asked Mr. Watson.

"I don't know. He began to tell me when your boat came alongside,"
replied Levi. "He said my uncle borrowed a screw-driver of him; but I
don't know what this had to do with it."

"Send for him, Levi," added Mr. Watson. "If he tells the truth, and
means to do well, perhaps we may do something to help him."

The steward was called, and directed to bring the prisoner--for such he
was--into the cabin. Mat was on the stool of repentance. All his
expectations had been blasted; and, whichever way he turned, the
prospect was dark and forbidding, as it must sooner or later be to all
evil-doers. Even if permitted to go on shore, he was alone and
friendless in a strange land. The share he was to receive of Bessie's
ransom had failed him; another evil speculation had also come to
nought. If he returned to his native land in the yacht, it was only to
be covered with merited disgrace, and to spend years of his life in the
state prison.

When Mat Mogmore entered the cabin under the escort of the steward, he
felt like a ruined man--one who, by his own folly and wickedness, had
sacrificed all his hopes in this world. Mr. Watson and the consul spoke
to him with the utmost plainness, the latter informing him that, if he
declined to return home in the yacht, he should procure his arrest on a
criminal charge.

"I will return in her, if you say so," blubbered Mat, whose pluck was
all gone.

"If you wish to explain your conduct, you may do so," added Mr. Watson.

"I don't know as it's any use. I wish I had been drowned in the
Caribbee."

"You began to tell me your story," said Levi.

"I was going to tell you how I happened to help Captain Vincent. He
made me do it. I'll tell you about it, if you like."

"Go on," added Mr. Watson.

"Perhaps I'm worse than you think I am; but I'll tell the whole truth."

"That's what we want."

"Levi's uncle borrowed a screw-driver of me in the shop. I wanted to
use it pretty soon, and I went over to Mr. Fairfield's after it. He was
fixing a board to put over a hole in the plastering in his chamber. I
saw he had cut away the laths, and I knew he wasn't putting up the
piece to keep the cold out, as he said. I made up my mind he had money
hid in that hole. At the fire, when the folks had left the room, and
all the men were on the roof, I took off that board, for I thought the
money would be all lost if there was any there. I found the four bags