So she would if it had not been that her usual ill fortune followed the _Warrior_. It proved that sufficient repairs had not been made at Millville so that the packet was two hours late at Landlock, and Dean’s party had over an hour to wait. Jack fumed and fretted over this suspense, declaring that when they got the new boat to running there would be no such “land-lubberish doings.” Landlock is most peculiarly situated where a cove of the inland sea known as Lake Seneca cuts into the shore in the shape of a huge heart, high bluffs on the opposing sides overhanging the water. The town, which does not contain more than two thousand inhabitants, lies at the point of the shore line. When Jack Carboy had seemed to exhaust his vocabulary of invectives against the tardy boat, it came into sight, and with provoking slowness reached the pier. In the bustle and excitement Dean caught sight of Colonel Darringford and his scapegrace son, the former showing deeply the effects of his potations of liquor and his anger at the delays already made in the passage. The captain had declared that it would be impossible to continue the trip without further repairs, and he had reluctantly consented to an hour’s stop at Landlock for this purpose. As Dean’s party went aboard Rodney Darringford stared insolently at them, while Tim Downey, in the background, watched them as a cat watches a mouse it is about to pounce upon. “Wonder where they picked up that tenderfoot,” he asked aside of Rodney. “Don’t know. Perhaps he is going to work on the new boat.” “Mebbe. Say, don’t that miserable top of a Mercer carry a high head, though?” “Higher’n he will to-morrow, according to my calculations. Say, I have given them stateroom Number 40.” “The one with the secret opening?” asked Tim, while a look of delight swept over his countenance. “The same. I do not think I need to tell you what there is for you to do, if you are going to follow this matter up.” “I am. I’ll take stateroom Number 41,” and the youthful plotter turned away with a wicked smile on his lips. Keeping far enough away so as not to attract their attention, he watched the three until they went to their quarters, when Tim Downey was not seen again for more than an hour. Then he sought his associate in crime, Rodney Darringford. The _Warrior_ was again moving laboriously toward her destination, with a fair prospect of finishing the trip in safety. “Well?” asked Rodney. “That secret opening just let me overhear and see all they said and done,” said Tim. “That strange kid is the boy of Rob Ellison, whose case has been handled by ol’ Montague at Millville. It seems they hev got hold of some papers that are going to clear the kid’s daddy, and Dean Mercer had ’em, together with a thousand dollars.” “A thousand dollars?” demanded young Darringford, a look of greed coming into his eyes.