My smile was almost a wince at his shift of tense to the past; then I replied evasively: “This case?” “Come, now, man,” he retorted sharply, and I regretted my attempt at fencing; “you look like more sense. And I believe, if you’ll remember our several positions at the present minute, that probably out-and-out frankness will strike you as the best policy. It is natural that I am puzzled about you at some points in reviewing the events of the past two days, and I see no better or quicker method of clearing the air than direct question and answer. So now, what say you? Of course, I can handle my own end in either course you choose to pursue, though personally I prefer candor.” He was right; the upper hand was his, and it didn’t take me many seconds to reconcile my conscience to my superior’s, by saying: “Let it be the truth, then, Mr. Stroth. And I certainly hope that something’ll come out that will make things a bit clearer to me. The Lord knows I’m in the dark deep enough myself. I’m ready.” “First, then,” said he, as he handed me over a humidor of dusky-hued panetelas--though I noticed he didn’t take one himself--“perhaps it would be best for me to state my difficulties, eh?” “As you will, sir,” I agreed, lighting the welcome cigar, which I really stood in need of. “Here we have it, then,” he continued. “First I see you on the dock at Port Washington, and it’s the first time I ever saw you in my life, I believe.” “Exactly,” I broke in, “and I believe I was at that time instrumental--was of some service?” “Wait! That’s just the point. You were of service, immense service, I admit. I never would have thought that Pawlinson would have the nerve to risk fooling Stevens into hiring him for engineer of my own launch. And it might very well have succeeded but for you, as you say.” “But then?” “But next I stumble on you at the Portland wharf. Apparently your rôle had, by that time, decidedly shifted. Stevens, who came from Stamford, where he left the launch, even tells me that both you and Pawlinson traveled in the same sleeping coach with him to Boston.” “I didn’t know it at the time,” I said, but he paid no attention to the interruption as he concluded: “And now, last night, came the final mystery, for my searchlight revealed both you and Pawlinson at fisticuff loggerheads in a wabbly punt, with a speed-boat accompaniment. As to your place in this little series of events, I confess myself completely mystified; and so it is that I ask you--who was your employer in this thing, and where do you stand, anyway?” I saw no way to answer except in the strictest truth, and I couldn’t see, for the life of me, how it could hurt matters at all then, for I certainly was completely in his power any time he should choose to apply the thumbscrews. “I am one of Chief Garth’s men,” said I. “You know him?” “Old Garth, of the United?” he chuckled. “I should say I did. Yes?”