o aft
and tell Mr. Vane he's wanted on the bridge."

The messenger vanished.

"I assume there _is_ a young lady on board?" went on Steingall.

"I'm told so. I haven't seen her."

"Surely you know every one who has a right to be on the ship?"

"Guess that's so, mister, an' who has more right than the daughter of
the man who puts up the dough for the trip? Strikes me you're makin' a
hash of things. But here's Mr. Vane. He'll soon put you where you
belong."

Advancing from the after state-rooms came Voles. He was looking at
the bridge, but the police-captain was hidden momentarily by the
chart-room. He gazed at Steingall with bold curiosity. He had a foot
on the companion ladder when he heard a sudden commotion on the wharf.
Turning, he saw Fowle, livid with terror, writhing in Carshaw's grasp.

Then Voles stood still. The shades of night were drawing in, but he had
seen enough to give him pause. Perhaps, too, other less palpable shadows
darkened his soul at that moment.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SETTLEMENT

The chief disliked melodrama in official affairs. Any man, even a crook,
ought to know when he is beaten, and take his punishment with a stiff
upper lip. But Voles's face was white, and in one of his temperament,
that was as ominous a sign as the bloodshot eyes of a wild boar.
Steingall had hoped that Voles would walk quietly into the chart-room,
and, seeing the folly of resistance, yield to the law without a
struggle. Perhaps, under other conditions, he might have done so. It was
the coming of Fowle that had complicated matters.

The strategic position was simple enough. Voles had the whole of the
after-deck to himself. In the river, unknown to him, was the police
launch. On the wharf, plain in view, were several policemen, whose
clothes in nowise concealed their character. On the bridge, visible now,
was the uniformed police-captain. Above all, there was Fowle, wriggling
in Carshaw's grasp, and pointing frantically at him, Voles.

"Come right along, Mr. Vane," said Steingall encouragingly; "we'd like a
word with you."

The planets must have been hostile to the Meiklejohn family in that
hour. Brother William was being badly handled by Mrs. Carshaw in
Atlantic City, and Brother Ralph was receiving a polite request to come
up-stairs and be cuffed.

But Ralph Vane Meiklejohn faced the odds creditably. People said
afterward it was a pity he was such a fire-eater. Matters might have
been arranged much