“Your officer has given you my name. The captain of that ship is my brother-in-law; and I was going with him on a voyage for the benefit of my health. If there is any thing wrong about that, I should like to know what it is,” said Mr. Simpson. “Perfectly right and laudable: the sea often has a good effect upon invalids; but it seems to me that the way you went on board of the ship was not quite regular.” The cashier gave the explanation which had been agreed upon before. “Where do you reside when you are at home, Mr. Simpson?” “In Albany; and I am engaged in the grocery business. I am forty-one years old. I have a wife, but no children. I have been out of health for the last six months, and”-- “Do you know any thing about banking?” interposed the captain. “As much as most business men who have dealings with banks.” “Well, Mr. Wallgood,--I beg your pardon: Mr. Simpson,--but I have an idea that you know more of banking than the ordinary man of business.” “Why do you call me Mr. Wallgood, when you know that my name is Simpson?” asked the cashier, who wanted to know with what he was charged; for it did not seem possible to him that the knowledge of his defalcation could have come out so far at sea. “I have in mind a gentleman of that name,--the cashier of the Walnut National Bank,--who has just left Midhampton with a hundred thousand dollars belonging to the bank. He was a man about your size. Do you know any thing about him, Mr. Simpson?” “I don’t know any thing about him,” replied the defaulter, with his heart in his throat. “You must excuse me, Mr. Simpson; but I have a suspicion that this cashier was brought off from New York in the yacht ‘Moonlight,’ and put on board of the ship ‘Housatonic.’ Have you seen any thing of him?” “There is no such person on board of the ship,” replied Mr. Simpson, struggling to appear unmoved under this trying ordeal. “Just now he is not in the ship; but wasn’t he in the cabin when you were?” asked the captain quietly, and as though he had not the least interest in the question. “No, sir. No such person is or has been on board of the ship,” protested the cashier. “You will excuse me if I press this matter far enough to satisfy myself that you are not the person for whom I am in search.” “Do you for a moment suppose that I am the one who robbed the bank?” demanded Mr. Simpson, with all the indignation he could throw into his tones. “You mistake this matter: I said distinctly that I wish to prove that you are not this person.” “That shows that I am under suspicion.” “It has that look, Mr. Simpson; but I am willing to take either way you like, and will prove that you are, or that you are not, the person, as you may elect.” “It is all the same thing,” groaned the defaulter.