“Excuse me,” he said, “but I fear you lack imagination. Those men are rascals, dangerous rascals, and the woman is their accomplice. What they have done I don’t know, but I have already learned enough to arrest them as suspicious characters. Listen! Each of them has a separate state-room forward. The window of the American’s room was open, and his suit-case was on the bed. On it were the initials H. P. A. The stateroom is number twenty-four, but when I examined the purser’s list, pretending I wished to find out if a friend of mine was on board, I found that the man in twenty-four had given his name as James Preston. Now,” he demanded, “why should one of them hide under an alias and the other be afraid to show himself until we leave the wharf?” He did not wait for my answer. “I have been talking to Mr. H. P. A., ALIAS Preston,” he continued. “I pretended I was a person of some importance. I hinted I was rich. My object,” Kinney added hastily, “was to encourage him to try some of his tricks on ME; to try to rob ME; so that I could obtain evidence. I also,” he went on, with some embarrassment, “told him that you, too, were wealthy and of some importance.” I thought of the lovely lady, and I felt myself blushing indignantly. “You did very wrong,” I cried; “you had no right! You may involve us both most unpleasantly.” “You are not involved in any way,” protested Kinney. “As soon as we reach New Bedford you can slip on shore and wait for me at the hotel. When I’ve finished with these gentlemen, I’ll join you.” “Finished with them!” I exclaimed. “What do you mean to do to them?” “Arrest them!” cried Kinney sternly, “as soon as they step upon the wharf!” “You can’t do it!” I gasped. “I HAVE done it!” answered Kinney. “It’s good as done. I have notified the chief of police at New Bedford,” he declared proudly, “to meet me at the wharf. I used the wireless. Here is my message.” From his pocket he produced a paper and, with great importance, read aloud: “Meet me at wharf on arrival steamer Patience. Two well-known criminals on board escaping New York police. Will personally lay charges against them.--Forbes Kinney.” As soon as I could recover from my surprise, I made violent protest. I pointed out to Kinney that his conduct was outrageous, that in making such serious charges, on such evidence, he would lay himself open to punishment. He was not in the least dismayed. “I take it then,” he said importantly, “that you do not wish to appear against them?” “I don’t wish to appear in it at all!” I cried. “You’ve no right to annoy that young lady. You must wire the police you are mistaken.” “I have no desire to arrest the woman,” said Kinney stiffly. “In my message I did not mention HER. If you want an adventure of your own, you might help her to escape while I arrest her accomplices.” “I object,” I cried, “to your applying the word ‘accomplice’ to that young lady. And suppose they ARE criminals,” I demanded, “how will arresting them help you?”