[Illustration: LEVI IN IRONS.--Page 96.]

Mr. Watson and the ladies were shocked and alarmed; but not one of them
for a moment doubted the innocence of Levi, who suffered himself to be
ironed without resistance.

CHAPTER IX.

THE EXAMINATION.

Constable Cooke put the irons on the wrists of Levi Fairfield, not from
a sense of duty, but with a keen relish for the act itself. It is but
justice to the officer, prejudiced though he was, to say that he was
entirely sincere in the belief that his prisoner had stolen the miser's
gold. He was needlessly rough and severe in the discharge of his duty,
and the irons were a gratuitous indignity. Mr. Watson protested
vigorously against the constable's useless display of authority. Bessie
was frightened and terribly grieved by the harsh treatment bestowed
upon her ideal of a hero.

Levi himself was the only person in the cabin who was calm. His quiet
dignity was unruffled by the insults heaped upon him, and he looked
proudly conscious of his innocence.

"What does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Watson, when Levi had been
effectually ironed, so that he could not tear the constable and his
assistant to pieces, as they seemed to fear he would.

"I do not know, sir," replied Levi, shaking his head, with a smile.

"I think it is all clear enough, Mr. Watson," interposed Constable
Cooke.

"I don't think it is," replied Mr. Watson, sharply. "You have found a
shot-bag with ten five-dollar gold pieces in it. What does that prove?"

"It proves that Levi stole the money just as clear as the sun proves
it's day."

"Is it anything surprising that the captain of a yacht has fifty
dollars in gold in his state-room?"

"I don't know's 'tis, but it's sunthin surprisin' that he should have
one of the bags the old man kept his money in, in his state-room," said
the officer, with a sneer.

"How do you know that is one of the bags?"

"How do I know?" repeated the constable, taking the bag from his
pocket. "Mr. Fairfield told me he writ his name on all the bags. There
it is."

The bag was exhibited, and over the imprint of the manufacturers of the
shot it had originally contained was the name, "N. Fairfield," rudely
traced in large, awkward characters, in pencil, on the cloth. Levi saw
it, and the formation of the two capital letters assured him it had
been written by his uncle. The bag was found in one of his drawers; but
it was plain that "an enemy had done this."

"If that