A couple of minutes must have passed before I picked up the hat from where it lay. As I hurried through the 'tweendecks some slight noise or movement made me turn my head. Looking to my right. I saw the horsey man, the stranger, rummaging quickly in the lockers of the Duke's cabin, As I looked, I saw him snatch up something like a pocketbook or pocket case, with a hasty “Ah” of approval. At the same moment, he saw me watching him. “Where's Mr. Scott?” he cried, darting out on me. “We may all blow up in another moment.” “He's on deck,” I said. “Hasn't he gone on deck?” “On deck?” said the man. “Then on deck with you, too.” He pushed me up the hatch before him. “Quick,” he cried. “Quick. There's Mr. Scott forward. Get him on to the wharf. He gave me a hasty shove forward, to where the whole company was working in a cloud of smoke, passing buckets from hand to hand. A crowd of Dutchmen had gathered on the wharf. Everybody was shouting. The scene was confused like a bad dream. I caught sight of the pedlar man at the gangway as the stranger thrust me forward. In the twinkling of an eye the stranger passed something to him with the quick thrust known as the thieves' pass. I saw it, for all my confusion. I knew in an instant that he had stolen something. The pedlar person was an accomplice. As likely as not the fire was a diversion. I rushed at the gangway. The pedlar was moving quickly away with his hands in his pockets. It all happened in a moment. As I rushed at the gangway, with some wild notion of stopping the pedlar, the horsey man caught me by the collar. “What,” he said, in a loud voice. “Trying to desert, are you? You come forward where the danger is.” He ran me forward. He was as strong as a bull. “Mr. Jermyn,” I cried. “Mr. Jermyn. This man's a thief.” The man twisted my collar on to my throat till I choked. “Quiet, you,” he hissed. Then Mr. Jermyn dropped his bucket to attend to me. “A thief,” I gasped. “A thief.” Mr. Jermyn sprang aft, with his eyes on the man's eyes. The stranger flung me into Mr. Jermyn's way, with all the sweep of his arm. As I went staggering into the fore-bitts (for Mr. Jermyn dodged me) the man took a quick side step up the rail to the wharf. I steadied myself. Mr. Jermyn, failing to catch the man before he was off the ship, rushed below to see what was lost. The crowd of workers seemed to dissolve suddenly. The men surged all about me, swearing. The fire was out. Remember, all this happened in thirty seconds, from the passing of the stolen goods to the stranger's letting go my throat. The very instant that I found my feet against the bitts, I jumped off the ship on to the wharf. There was the stranger running down the wharf to the right, full tilt. There was the lanky pedlar slouching quickly away as though he were going on an errand, with his black box full of groceries. “That's the man, Mr. Scott,” I cried. “He's got it.”