CHAPTER XII

TWO-THIRTY A. M.

Few men or women of sympathetic nature, and gifted with ordinary powers
of observation, can go through life without learning, at some time or
other in the course of their careers, that circumstances wholly beyond
human control can display on occasion a fiendish faculty of converting
patent honesty into apparent dishonesty--and that which is true of
motive holds equally good in the case of conduct.

The three men standing breathless and unmoved on some unknown wharf on
the left bank of the Hudson might fairly be described as superlatively
honest persons, nor had they done any act which could be construed as
wrongful by the most captious critic; yet McCulloch's concealment of
the lamp suggested something thievish and illicit, and, though he alone
could give a valid reason for exercising extreme discretion, because he
realized, better than the others, what a choice morsel this adventure
would supply to the press if ever it became known, both Curtis and
Devar listened like himself with bated breath to the oaths and
ejaculations which came from the after part of the moored vessel.

"Howly war!" cried one of the startled crew. "See what's butted into
us--the divvle's own battherin'-ram av a scow, an' wid an ilegant
lanthern shtuck on her mangy hide, if ye plaze."

A ship's lamp bobbed up and down in the gloom, and another voice said
gruffly:

"Mighty good job we had those fenders out, or she would have knocked a
hole in us. She seems to be wedged in good and hard under our mooring
rope; but shin over, Pat, an' make her fast. Somebody owns the brute,
an' there'll be damages to pay for this, an' p'raps salvage as well."

The Irishman dropped down into the barge. The silent trio on the quay
heard him walking to the lamp, and saw its dull orb of radiance lifted
from the deck.

"Begob, but this is a bit of a fairy tale," came the comment. "Here is
none o' yer tin-cint Standard Ile prapositions, but a rale dandy uv a
lamp, fit for a lady's cabin on Vandherbilt's yacht. An', for the luv
o' Hiven, look at the make uv it, wid a handle where the bottom ought
to be, an' all polished up like the pewther in Casey's saloon."

"Oh, get a move on, Pat, an' tie her up," said the other voice. "It's
the Lord knows what o'clock, an' we've a long day before us to-morrow."

The lamp moved astern, and the Irishman investigated matters further.

"There's bin black wur-rk here, George," he s