"Can't. I'm dead broke." "I'll pay for it," offered Guy, as Dick's auto swung around a corner and as the two lads, who were rather inclined to a "sporty" life, turned to seek a pool "parlor," they were confronted by an elderly man, with a small tuft of white whiskers on his chin, which moved up and down as he talked. "Was that Dick Hamilton who just passed?" asked the old man. "Sure," replied Simon, flippantly. "Do you know him?" "I guess I ought to, I'm his uncle," was the answer. "But I couldn't see very good, 'cause the sun was in my eyes. Now, didn't I hear you say you didn't care whether or not his yacht sunk." "Oh, we were only fooling," spoke Guy, with an uneasy laugh, thinking he was to be called to account for the remark. "Oh, you needn't worry," returned Ezra Larabee, quickly. "I just happened to hear what you said, and it occurred to me that perhaps you two lads, who, I believe, are acquainted with my nephew, would like to earn a little money easily. Would you?" "Would we? Well, I should lose a gold tooth if we wouldn't, old sport!" exclaimed Simon, slangily. "What's the game?" "Suppose you come with me," answered Mr. Larabee, and he looked around hastily to see if he was observed before leading the two ill-favored lads down a quiet street. Meanwhile, Dick and his friends continued on in the auto. They stopped at the bank where Mr. Hamilton had his private office, to say good-by, and half an hour later were speeding toward New York in a fast express. Grit was in the baggage car, but he cried and whined so mournfully, because he was out of Dick's sight, that his master had to go forward from the parlor coach to pay frequent visits to his pet. Arriving at the big city, the young millionaire piloted his friends to the same hotel where he had stopped before, and they were assigned to a suite of connecting rooms. Dick then sent for Tim Muldoon, the newsboy, who shortly appeared, resplendent in a new suit, and looking quite different than when he first came under his friend's notice, as a ragged "fresh-air kid." The young owner of the _Albatross_ had sent word to Captain Barton that he was in town, and would shortly come aboard, and Dick asked that the yacht be in readiness for putting to sea at once. "Now," said our hero to his friends at the hotel, "I have to go see Mr. Blake, the lawyer, and then I guess I'm done with business for a while. I want to ask his advice about locating those Cuban relatives of my mother." "Guess I'd better go along with you," suggested Tim. "You might be held up again, and I know almost every detective in New York. I could signal to one in a jiffy for you, and we'd have bully fun arrestin' the fellows. It'd make a corkin' story. Shall I come?" "Oh, it's hardly necessary," objected the rich youth, but Tim insisted on it, and went with his friend in the taxicab.