“He is not in our employ, sir. He has been chief engineer of the _Arab_ for the past eight years, and prior to that he was chief of the _Narcissus_. It was Reardon who told me what ailed her. She's a hog on coal, and the Oriental steamship people used to nag him about the fuel bills. Their port engineer didn't agree with Reardon as to what was wrong with her, so he left. He assures me that if her condensers are retubed she'll burn from seven to ten tons of coal less per day.” “Hum! So you're going to give him the job for telling you something our own port engineer would have told us after an examination.” “No, sir, I'm going to give him the job because he has earned it. He gave me some very valuable information about the wretched condition of her electric-light plant and a crack, cunningly concealed, in the after web of her crank shaft--” “Oh, by thunder,” piped Cappy, “that's worth knowing! Ship a new crank shaft, Matt, and save the Blue Star a salvage bill sooner or later.” “All that inside information will not only save us money in the future,” Matt continued, “but it enabled me to drive a closer bargain when dealing with MacCandless, of the Oriental Steamship Company. Consequently Terence Reardon gets the job. He's only making a hundred and fifty dollars a month in the _Arab_, and as he is a rattling good man--I've looked him up, sir--I've promised him a hundred and seventy-five a month in the _Narcissus_.” “Oh, you've already promised him the job, eh? Mistake, Matt, serious mistake. You say you looked him up, but I'll bet you a new hat there is one thing about him that you failed to investigate, and that is: What kind of Irish is he?” “Why, regular Irish, of course--mighty good Irish, I should say. Keen, observing, not too talkative, a hard worker, temperate in his habits and a crackajack engineer to boot.” Cappy settled back wearily in his chair and favored his youthful partner with a glance of tolerant amusement.