Mr. Beardsley, the deputy sheriff, conducted Donald to the elegant mansion of Captain Patterdale. Perhaps no one who saw them walking together suspected that the boat-builder was charged with so gross a crime as stealing the tin box and its valuable contents. Some persons do not like to walk through the streets with sheriffs and policemen; but Donald was not of that sort, for in spite of all the evidence brought against him, he obstinately refused to believe that he was guilty. Even the fact that several notes and other papers had been found in the shop did not impair his belief in his own innocence. Captain Patterdale was in his library nervously awaiting the return of the officer, when they arrived. "Don John, I hope you will come out of this all right," said he, as they entered. "I have no doubt I shall, sir," replied Donald. "If I don't, it will be because I can't prove what is the truth." Mr. Beardsley reported the result of the search, and handed the captain the four fifty-dollar bills with the papers. "I have no doubt all these were in the tin box," said the nabob, sadly. "The bills are like those paid me by Hasbrook, and these notes are certainly mine. I don't ask you to commit yourself, Don John, but--" "Commit myself!" exclaimed Donald, with a look of contempt, which, in this connection, was sublime. "I mean to speak the truth, whether I am committed or not." "Perhaps you will be able to clear this thing up," added Captain Patterdale. "I wish to ask you a few questions." "I will answer them truly. The only wrong I have done was to conceal what I thought there was no harm in concealing." "It is not wise to do things in the dark." "You will excuse me, sir, but you have done the same thing. If I had known that your tin box was stolen, I should have understood several things which are plain to me now." "What, for instance?" "If I had known it, I should have brought these bills to you as soon as Laud paid them to me, to see if they belonged to you. And I should have known why Laud was digging clams on Turtle Head." "Laud says he paid you no money." "He paid me three hundred and fifty dollars for the Juno--these four bills and the three I paid Mr. Leach." "He persists that he don't own the Juno, and says that Captain Shivernock lets him have the use of her for taking care of her," continued the nabob. Donald's face, which had thus far been clouded with anxiety, suddenly lighted up with a cheerful smile, as he produced the cover of an old tuck-diary, which contained the papers of Ramsay & Son. He opened it, and took therefrom the bill of sale of the Juno, in the well-known writing of Captain Shivernock. "Does that prove anything?" he asked, as he tossed the paper on the desk, within reach of the inquisitor. "It proves that Captain Shivernock sold the Juno to you, and consequently he has not owned her since the date of this bill," replied the nabob, as he read the paper.