"It fits as neat as a pair of handcuffs," said the chief of police. "I'll think over it and let you know. Stay, sirree, I've got it now. Look here, admiral, now you mark me. This is a scheme. It'll work, or my name's Dennis. I'll have it put about in the right quarter that though there ain't evidence to touch the real man who worked the racket on you, it is known who actually corralled you and shoved you on the _California_. I'll get the proper man to give it away that a warrant is being made out. And next day I'll have all the runners of all the chief boarding-houses arrested. Do you see?" "No, I don't," said the admiral. "Oh, come," cried Cartwright. "The man we don't arrest will be the man who done it." "Yes, but----" "Well," said Cartwright, "I understood you didn't particularly hanker to catch the under-strapper." "Ah," said the admiral, "of course I see. You mean----" "I mean the boarding-house boss will shove the runner that did it out of sight. And then you'll know him by reason of the very means he takes not to be given away. For of course he'd reckon that the runner on being held would squeal." "It's a good plan," said the admiral. "And when I know, what kind of punishment would Mr. Smith like least of all?" "Provided you remember he's an American citizen, I don't care what you do," replied the chief. "But if you asked me, I should get him served the way he's served you. Shanghai Smith among a crowd of sailormen in an American ship, such as the _Harvester_ (and the skipper of the _Harvester_ hates him like poison)--and _she_ sails in three days--would have a picnic to recollect all his life. For you see, they know him." "I'll think it over," said the admiral. "Your plan is excellent. "So it is," said Cartwright, as he was rowed ashore, "for Smith ain't no favourite of mine, and at the same time it will look as if I gave him the straight racket, anyhow." He sent an agent down to the water front that very night. The man dropped casual hints at the boarding-houses, and he dropped them on barren ground everywhere but at Shanghai Smith's. "Jehoshaphat," said Smith, "so that's the game!" Peter Cartwright had, in his own language, "reckoned him up to rights"; for the very first move that Smith played was to make a break for Billy's room. As the runner had been up most of the night before enticing sailormen off a Liverpool ship just to keep his hand in, he was as fast asleep as a bear on Christmas Day, and he was mighty sulky when Smith shook him out of sleep by the simple process of yanking his pillow from under his head. "Ain't a man to get no sleep that works for you?" he demanded. "What's up now?"