“’Tis evident that ye are not acquainted with our particular king, George. You do not move in royal circles. We will tell ye the answer later. About this young man that calls himself a baron. Did he leave any address behind him?” “Yes. He is staying at the Carleton. If the option expires I shall take it for granted that he doesn’t want the steamer. If he pays down the cash I shall be ready to make out the papers and give Captain Handy his commission. Now you ought to tell me why you are so keen on knowing all about the business. If you keep mum, you are a pair of blighters and no friends of mine.” O’Shea hauled Johnny Kent to his feet and remarked: “We thank you kindly, George. You are a good-natured man and we have made a nuisance of ourselves. ’Tis the honest truth that we know very little more about this young man and the _Tyneshire Glen_ than ye know yourself. But what we do know we will first investigate.” “You are conspirators born and bred,” laughed Huntley, rather pleased to have an ordinary business transaction wrapped in romantic mystery. “Come and dine with me as soon as you have unravelled the plot.” They straightway betook themselves to the nearest public-house, where in a quiet corner a council of war was convened. It was obvious that they had run athwart a scheme to defraud the confiding purchaser of the _Tyneshire Glen_. And their sympathies went out strongly to the royal victim. Whether or not he was a real king was beside the mark. He was very much the gentleman, and he had trusted too much in the loyalty and integrity of that enterprising young man who was called the minister of finance. “’Tis as plain as the big nose on that red face of yours, Johnny,” exclaimed O’Shea. “The two crooks are standing in together. Captain Handy recommends the ship as all right. This Baron Frederick Martin Strothers backs him up and advises His Majesty to buy her. The two blackguards get a price of twenty-four thousand pounds from George Huntley, and then tell this innocent potentate that the price is thirty thousand pounds. The difference is six thousand pounds--thirty thousand dollars--which this pair of land-sharks will split up and stick in their own pockets. And they will doctor the bill of sale so the poor deluded monarch will never know what happened to him.” “That was what we heard ’em say in the Jolly Mermaid, Cap’n Mike. The price was thirty thousand pounds.” “’Tis me opinion that a minister of finance like this could bankrupt a kingdom, give him time enough,” said O’Shea. “He is working the game for all it’s worth. He will loot the treasury as long as it looks safe and easy, and then he will resign his what-do-ye-call-it--his portfolio--and leave his buncoed Majesty to figure out the deficit.” “That poor king deserves to be delivered from his lovin’ friends,” replied Johnny Kent. “What’s the orders now?”