“Ask Lorns to step here.”
Quin went questing Lorns; shortly Lorns and Quin came back together. The chief turned in a brisk, sharp, official way to Lorns:
“Did you inspect this trunk?”
“I did,” said Lorns, looking at the chalk marks as if to make sure.
“Open it!”
No keys were procurable; the owners, Lorns said, had long since left the docks. But Lorns suggested that he get hammer and cold-chisel from the ship.
The trunk was opened and found free and innocent of aught contraband. The chief wore a puzzled, dark look; he felt that he’d been cheated, but he couldn’t say how. Therefore, being wise, the chief gulped, said nothing, and as life is short and he had many things to do, soon after left the docks and went his way.
“That was a squeak!” said Lorns when we were at last free of the dangerous chief. “Quin, I thank you.”
“That’s all right,” retorted Quin, with a grin; “do as much for me some time.”
That night, with the aid of a river pirate, our trunk, jettisoned by the excellent Quin, was fished up; and being tight as a drum, its contents had come to little harm with the baptism. At last, our dozen silk trunks—holding a treasure of thirty thousand dollars and whereon we looked to clear a heavy profit—were safe in the Reade Street loft; and my hasty heart, which had been beating at double speed since that almost fatal interference, slowed to normal.