"Next fellow as owned her went crazy and is in an asylum. They say he saw the spook go through the suicide act in the cabin, and that was what crazed him." "The interest increases. The horrors are piling up. Anything more?" "Benjamin owned her next." "Anything happen to him?" "Yes." "What?" "He got the Klondike fever." "That all?" "Ain't that enough? He's run away to Alaska, and his father's rich as mud. He didn't have no need to go up there into that infernally cold region and freeze and starve. His old man's so mad he threatens to cut him off." "Well," laughed Frank, "the _White Wings_ is mine now, and I don't fancy all the spooks of the infernal regions could scare me away from her. In fact, I'd rather enjoy having a call from a few spooks." "You'll have some kind of bad luck," declared the truckman, as he prepared to go. "I don't like to tell you that, but I think you oughter be looking out." A young man with a small, curly, black mustache came hurrying onto the pier. He was well dressed and carried a cane. He came straight up to Frank and the truckman. "Where is the person known as Frank Merriwell?" he asked. "I am Frank Merriwell," Merry answered. "What can I do for you?" "You are the chap I want to see," said the stranger. "I understand you bought the _White Wings_ of Jack Benjamin?" "I did, sir." "And he sold it to you as clear and free of encumbrance?" "He did." "He beat you." "How is that?" "I hold a bill of sale of that yacht, and I am here to claim it as my property!" was the answer. Frank was surprised. The truckman slapped his hand against his hip and muttered: "I told him! The thing is hoodooed! Anybody as has anything to do with it is bound to buck against hard luck." "This is rather surprising information," said Frank Merriwell, speaking with the utmost calmness, while he studied the face of the stranger with piercing eyes. "I hardly understand it. I believe Jack Benjamin has the reputation in Boston of being on the level, and so I hardly understand a piece of business like this." "Perhaps Benjamin was stuck, found it out, and got out of the hole the best way he could." "How do you mean?" "Perhaps at the time he bought the boat, he didn't know I held the bill of sale of her." Frank started. "Ha!" he exclaimed. "Then Benjamin did not give you the bill of sale?" "No. Chap that owned her before that did. His name is Fearson." "Fearson? Is he the one who went crazy?" "The very same," put in the truckman. "When did he give you this bill of sale?" "Don't remember the exact date." "The bill will show." "Sure. Why do you want to know?" "I want to find out if he gave it to you before a certain time. That's all." The strange claimant of the yacht was suspicious. "I don't see the point," he said. "I hold the bill, and I claim the yacht. Just found out what Benjamin had done, and I came down in a hurry, after getting track of the boat, to warn you not to try to move her. I won't have it."