It began to look like a scrape, but Frank was not flustered in the least. He kept his head, saying: "Have you the bill of sale with you, sir?" "Yes." "Will you be kind enough to permit me to look at it?" The stranger started to do so, but seemed to change his mind of a sudden, and said: "No, I won't bother. I tell you not to move her. If you do, I'll make you pay a big sum for damages, so look out." Frank smiled sweetly. "That is a very silly threat," he murmured. "If you do not show me the document I shall not believe it exists." "That doesn't make any difference to----" "It makes this difference: It is now twenty minutes to nine. At nine I shall cast off from the pier. Wind and tide being right, it will not take me long to get out of the harbor." "You wouldn't dare!" "What is there to dare? I fail to see anything." "Why, confound you! I'd make you smart for it!" "You couldn't. You have made a lot of bluffing talk about holding a bill of sale, but I do not take any stock in that till you produce the document. I have purchased this yacht, and, as long as I believe myself her rightful owner, I shall do with her as I see fit. At nine o'clock she sails." The fellow hesitated, and then snapped out: "Oh, I can prove to you that I am not lying. I will prove it. Here is the bill--see for yourself." He took a number of papers from his pocket, and selected one among them, which he opened and held before Frank. Merriwell looked the document over carefully. It was a bill of sale of the yacht _White Wings_ from Fergus Fearson to Parker Flynn. "Is your name Parker Flynn?" asked Frank. "It is." "And you bought the yacht of Fearson?" "You bet!" nodded the claimant, triumphantly. "I rather think this document settles it." "It does," nodded Frank, quietly. Then he turned to the truckman, and asked: "When was Mr. Fearson committed to the asylum?" "The latter part of May." "And this bill is dated May 21st. The fellow must have been deranged then." "Oh, you can't make that go!" cried Flynn, quickly. "It's no use for you to try to crawl out of a little hole like that." "Why have you not claimed the yacht before? Holding this bill, why didn't you claim it while it was in Benjamin's possession? Answer that question!" "I was away--out of the city," faltered Flynn. "All the time?" "Most of the time." "Very well. Here is your bill. I advise you to destroy it without delay, or it may get you into serious trouble." "What?" cried the man, angrily. "Destroy it? I'll have that yacht. This bill gives me the right to it." "That bill gives you the right to nothing!" came clearly and distinctly from Merriwell's lips. "Either you have been badly fooled or you are a rascal trying to obtain property that you have not the slightest claim upon. It looks as if the latter were the real condition of affairs. Fergus Fearson is confined in a madhouse, and so he cannot deny that he ever gave you a bill of sale of this yacht."