"It means," said Mr. Daly, affably, "that your uncle engaged me to make the West Indian voyage in your company and protect you from any designing persons. The price per day was the one he himself fixed, and is somewhat less than I am in the habit of receiving. A desire to visit that part of the world induced me to accept the lower rate. The expenses, I hardly think you will deny, have been kept very reasonable."
I reddened more than ever.
"In plain English, sir, you have been dogging my footsteps, and desire me to foot the bill."
"You or your uncle—it is all the same to me," he responded, quite unruffled. "I think you have had some narrower escapes, sir, than you yet realize."
With Miss May's confession lying before me on the table I could not well doubt that. Still the shame of my position was no less galling.
"We can postpone the consideration of that little matter for the present, if you desire," continued Daly, for such I must now call him. "What is of more pressing importance, is the examination of Jack Hazen, or Robert Edgerly, as you knew him, which is set down for day after to-morrow."
"What!" I cried, startled out of myself.
"Oh, I forgot. You know the check for $350 that you gave him when he buncoed you on the Madiana? Well, he raised that to $3500, and was arrested while trying to collect that sum at your bank. After you told me you had given him the check I had just time to stop the swindle by cable."
Edgerly arrested? Poor Marjorie! That was all I could think of.
"He is an old offender," continued Daly, "and will get a sweetener this time. At what hour can I expect you to-morrow at the district attorney's office? Twelve o'clock will suit me. Twelve? All right. I see you are busy. Good day, Mr. Camran."