"Well, it was a fraudulent concern that flourished like a green bay tree some seven or eight years ago, and withered like a fragile plant when the government got after it for fraudulent use of the mails. Like many such grafting stock-selling companies, it had a dummy board of officers who appeared to be in control, while the real rogues who were harvesting the coin kept in the background. Jones was president of that company. He believed it to be on the level, and he had invested some of his own money--superficially all he had--in it. When the government got busy, Jones was indicted as the head of the concern. He was thought to be the originator of the scheme. The real crook had fixed it so that he seemed to be one of the innocent victims, and he helped swear Jones into prison. Jones got five years. He served his time." At last Locke was impressed. He had never seen Wiley so serious. For once, the flippant and superficial manner of the swarthy little man had been discarded; his flamboyant style of speech had been dropped. Ordinarily he gave one the impression that he was gleefully fabricating; now, of a sudden, the listener was convinced that he was hearing the naked truth. It explained the atmosphere of somber sadness, the appearance of brooding over a great injustice, which had infolded the mysterious dumb pitcher of the Wind Jammers. For Jones Lefty felt a throb of genuine sympathy. "With the unclothed eye I can perceive that you get me," the sailor continued. "You can imagine how you would feel if you had been sent to the jug for five years, as punishment for a crime perpetrated by somebody else. What if the one who concocted the scheme and benefited by it swore your liberty away and escaped scot-free himself?" "It was monstrous!" exclaimed the pitcher.