“What will you do about it?” demanded Willie, afire in a moment at the suggestion of another adventure. “Don’t know whether I’ll do anything. All we are interested in is smugglers. The cotton comes from the South, you know, so there is no question of smuggling. It’s simply a case of larceny.” “Then I suppose you’ll report the case to the police and let them arrest the man.” Unwittingly Willie had touched a sore spot. He had yet to learn about the power of professional jealousy. But he had his first lesson at once. “Not on your life,” said Sheridan. “We’ll grab him ourselves. The cops would bungle the whole business and give out a fine fairy story of how they discovered the theft. We’ll just keep an eye on that bird and see who he is.” “What are you going to do? Go back into the restaurant?” “No, we’ll just trail him after he comes out. This time you’ll have to help me, for I don’t know which one of the gang it was who said he had the cotton.” “You bet I’ll help you,” said Willie, delighted to be of real assistance at last. As luck would have it, there was an electric light almost in front of the coffee-house door. Diagonally across the street was a pile of timbers, close to the string-piece of a dock. The timbers were in a shadow, and at the end of the pile was a hollow space, formed by some projecting beams, that was inky black. Glancing hastily up and down the street to make sure they were not observed, Sheridan slipped across the street, followed by Willie, and in a second they were securely hidden in the recesses of the lumber pile. Fortunately they did not have long to wait. Soon the door of the coffee-house opened and a group of men came out. One of them was singing noisily. “That’s the fellow,” said Willie. “I don’t know who he is. But we’ll soon find out.” The men from the coffee-house parted on the sidewalk, and the roistering one started off alone, the others going in the opposite direction. “That’s luck,” muttered Sheridan. When the man was half a block down the street, the watchers slipped from their retreat and trailed the man until he crossed the road and disappeared in the darkness. The trailers hurried along and were just in time to see him crawling unsteadily over the side of the pier to the deck of a barge. Returning a little later, they found everything dark and deserted about the pier. So they ventured out on it and made a swift examination of the barge. “She’s the _Dixie_,” muttered Sheridan, studying the name on the stern of the boat. “And she belongs to the Coastwise Steamship Company. They operate between here and the South. We’ll have a look at her to-morrow.” “May I go along?” demanded Willie. “Surest thing you know. Why, you’re a material witness in this case. You meet me at Bowling Green at eight o’clock to-morrow morning, and we’ll have a look at the _Dixie_.” CHAPTER VI WHAT WAS BEHIND THE FALSE PARTITION