“Mr. Landon is not fit to be seen,” said the captain. “He had an accident Monday afternoon off the banks.” “But I _must_ see him, captain.” “Well, you persistent old salt, if you _must_, then take my advice and see his daughter, she’s a whole lot better-looking.” “I have a very important message for your father, Miss Landon,” said the pilot, making a sailor’s bow. “Thank you, I’ll take it.” “But--I have sworn to give it into no hands but his, and I--” “Can’t trust me?” “Oh, yes, miss--but--” Now the poor man had become so confused that he had allowed the handsome, irresistible young woman to take the letter. She tore it open, glanced at the signature, and said, “Oh, this is all right, it’s from papa’s former business partner. He wants papa to do nothing until he sees him. Well, I’m sure he won’t do much, poor dear.” “Then you’ll be responsible, miss?” “Oh, yes, I’ll be responsible.” The pilot bowed again and ran up the ladder. When the big ship crawled up through the fog, slowed again and picked up the Government trunk-riflers, a man threw up a lump of coal with a letter and a five-dollar note held to it by a rubber band. “Keep the dough and give that letter to Landon,” the man called up to the deck-steward who had caught the coal. When Miss Landon had opened this letter, which was from her father’s solicitor, whom she disliked, she laughed. “‘Do nothing until you see me.’ I never saw such a lot of do-nothing people.” Now another tug came nosing up to the liner, as a herring noses about a floating biscuit, and up came another lump of coal with a note and a dollar. The note was addressed to Mr. Landon, and stated that the “Daily Broker” would like to speak to him. Miss Landon crumpled the paper in her hand, leaned over the railing and looked down upon the paper man who had his chin pointed at the funnels of the big boat. A man with a happy, round red face leaned over the side and said, “You can’t see Mr. Landon.” “Why?” “He’s hurted.” “Bad?” “Purty bad.” When the “Daily Broker’s” extra edition came out with the elaborate account of the distressing accident to Mr. Landon, there was excitement in Wall Street. Naturally the Van Swells, while deeply deploring the accident to the estimable old Yankee, were elated at the prospect of his being unable to vote at the election which would take place in three days. The “Daily Broker” told how the old man had gone, against the captain’s protest, upon the hurricane deck when the ship was rolling, had slipped and fallen down the narrow ladder, broken his left arm and three ribs. These wounds, the paper said, were not necessarily fatal, but it was thought by the ship’s doctor--who being slightly deaf talked very low, as deaf people do--that the venerable New Englander had sustained serious internal injuries.