he kept a furtive watch upon
Pauline, and even heard her envious remarks about pirates to Harry when
he returned for a weekend at home. Owen sympathized with Pauline in
her regret that pirates were extinct. A pirate would have been very
useful to the secretary just then.

However, there were other cut-throats, plenty of them, and perhaps some
other kind would do. There were gunmen, for instance, but, an honest
District Attorney had lately made these murderous gentlemen of the
underworld almost as quiet as pirates. He was still pondering when
Hicks called again on the telephone. This time the secretary responded
and made an immediate appointment in a cafe near Forty-second street.

Owen related the events of the week, ending with Pauline's hankering
for pirates. The two men got their heads together and rapidly evolved
a plan.

From the cafe they took a taxi and rode along the water front, first on
one side of the island of Manhattan and then on the other. The cab
stopped near the worst-looking saloons, while the two schemers entered
and looked over the sailors and longshoremen refreshing themselves at
the bars. After covering several miles of water front they had
collected as many as a dozen abominable barroom cigars and a few
equally dubious drinks, but had not yet found what they were looking
for.

On Front Street they saw a man, and both cried out:

"Look, there he is."

The man was a wild-looking specimen. He had the rolling gait of the
deep sea. A squinting eye gave him a villainous leer, while a bristly
beard and long gray hair made him a ferocious spectacle. His age was
doubtful, as the lines in his ruddy skin might have been cut by
dissipation as much as age. The most prominent feature of his unlovely
countenance was a nose, fiery red from prolonged exposure to sunburn,
or rum-bum.

"If he isn't a pirate he ought to be one," said Owen.

The man carried the top of a ship's binnacle, as the round brass case
which holds a ship's compass is called. He entered the dismal portal
of a marine junk shop. The taxi was stopped discreetly a block away.
As Owen and Hicks approached the shop they heard a loud argument going
on inside.

"How much do you want for it?"

"Ten dollars. It's a brand-new Negus."

"Ten nothing. You stole it, you son of a sea cook. I'll give you a
dime for it."

"I did not steal it, so help me ---- ------! The captain of that
'lime juicer' over in the North River gave