"It makes this difference: It is now twenty minutes to nine. At nine I shall cast off from the pier. Wind and tide being right, it will not take me long to get out of the harbor."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"What is there to dare? I fail to see anything."
"Why, confound you! I'd make you smart for it!"
"You couldn't. You have made a lot of bluffing talk about holding a bill of sale, but I do not take any stock in that till you produce the document. I have purchased this yacht, and, as long as I believe myself her rightful owner, I shall do with her as I see fit. At nine o'clock she sails."
The fellow hesitated, and then snapped out:
"Oh, I can prove to you that I am not lying. I will prove it. Here is the bill—see for yourself."
He took a number of papers from his pocket, and selected one among them, which he opened and held before Frank. Merriwell looked the document over carefully. It was a bill of sale of the yacht White Wings from Fergus Fearson to Parker Flynn.
"Is your name Parker Flynn?" asked Frank.
"It is."