"He’s going to find that I’ve made a tremendous mess of things," Philip broke in. "I’ve got to ask him, first of all, to put up for me, and he can’t afford to. Why, he won’t be able; he can’t sell anything; real estate is dead, completely; he’s land-poor, like everybody else these times. Besides, he’s gone security for people; he’s been ready to stake any one who voted for him—or says he did. They’ve got him all tied up in new town sites, fisheries, every sort of a scheme." "If my schooner had made good," said Stratton, "I would be glad to tide you through. But that was pretty hard luck, Captain. I put my faith in her; I could have sworn by that master and crew. And she had picked up a fine lot of peltries, fifteen hundred prime sealskins, when she struck that rock off Unimak Pass and went down. She cost me a good deal of money; I was hard pressed to outfit her, and now—nothing to show for it." "Too bad," answered Kingsley thoughtfully, "too bad. I guess, Mark, we’re in the same hole, together." There was a brief silence, then Stratton said, "There is just one way out, Captain." "You mean—well, just what do you mean?" "I mean with your standing, your family relations, above all to Judge Silas Kingsley, it would be perfectly safe; the _Phantom_ could go unsuspected anywhere; carry anything. And you know every island, current, tide-rip, shoal from Seattle to British Columbia. Then—there is that lonely old ruin around the bluff at Freeport. Why, at high tide you could run almost under the walls." Philip laughed unpleasantly. "You are reckoning without my wife. She’s the sort of woman to make it a matter of conscience and give the whole thing away." "She would, I have no doubt of it, if she knew." Stratton paused a moment, then said, "It is very unfortunate you never took that house you talked so much about taking, in town. But how is it you never bring her with us on a cruise, now? She used to like the water." A wave of color crossed Philip’s open face. "See here," he said, "leave my wife out." "As you like." Stratton shrugged his shoulders. "But if you had set up that establishment in town it would have been the best thing for her, and—for Forrest." "For Forrest?" "Yes. When two are young, you know, and have practically no other companionship—" "Oh, you don’t know her," Kingsley interrupted lightly; "you don’t know Forrest." "I know that she is a very bright and pretty woman; one of the most interesting I ever met. The kind any man would look at twice. And Forrest is a well set up fellow; the sort all women like. Then, too, music is her passion, and you know what he can do with his violin; he makes it a voice; it speaks for him." "Paul is a good fellow," answered Philip, growing annoyed; "one in a hundred; a man you can trust. I’ve known him all my life."