“You didn't suppose I had my eyes shut when I was looking at that chart the other day, did you?” “It seems to me you took in a lot in a thundering short time.” “Of course I did. It is my business to take in a lot when I look at a chart.” “Well, this is interesting, Smiley. I 'll think it over. Come on, boys.” The sailors rowed them back to the steamer; and the special agent was promptly closeted with Captain Sullivan. He laid out the whole situation, suggesting that the Captain keep a close watch on the Burnt Cove region and that he leave a launch at Spencer's. The fugitives had left nearly all they had, even to clothing, behind, and it was conceivable that they might return. “I wish,” he added, as he rose to go, “that I could call on the county authorities. Wilson and I may have our hands full if we meet them.” “You think you'd better not?” “Hardly. It is even chances that they are mixed up in the business some way. Spencer has known them longer than we have.” He left the Captain's stateroom, and found Smiley waiting for him by the wheel-house. “There's one thing I didn't say when we were talking,” began the prisoner, looking with some hesitation at the agent. “What's that, Smiley? Speak up. I'm starting now.” “You're going to try it, then?” “Yes.” “Will you take Pink and me with you?” Beveridge straightened up and flashed a keen, inquiring glance through Dick's eyes, down to the bottom of his soul. Dick met it squarely. “By Jove!” said Beveridge. Not a word said Smiley. “By Jove! I 'll do it!” Dick turned away, limp. “Smiley!” He turned back. “Where's Harper?” “Down below.” “Bring him to my stateroom. Be quick about it.” A very few moments more, and Dick and Harper knocked at the special agent's door. “Come in.” They entered, and found Beveridge and Wilson together. Beveridge closed the door, and there the four men stood, crowded together in the narrow space. Beveridge gave them another of his sharp glances, then he drew from his coat pockets two revolvers and held them out, one in each hand. Dick and Pink looked speechless. “Well, take 'em. You boys are to help me see this thing through, now.” “Do you--do you mean that?” “I don't joke with pistols.” Without more words each reached out. Dick thrust his into his hip pocket; but Pink opened his and looked at the loaded cylinder. “Now, boys,” said Beveridge, “we're off.” Wilson descended first to the launch, and Dick was about to follow when Captain Sullivan hurried up and caught his arm. “Here, here! This won't do!” Dick turned, and started to speak; then, seeing that Beveridge was approaching, he waited. “That's all right, Captain,” called the special agent; “let him go.” “Let him go!” Beveridge drew the Captain aside. “You aren't going to take him ashore with you?” “Yes, both of 'em.” Anger was struggling with disgust in the Captain's face. “You'd better hand 'em revolvers and be done with it.” “I've done that already.” “Oh, you _have!_”