When they came within hail of the shore Tom commanded Dan and George to cease rowing.
“We ought ter hold a consultation of war,” he said, “afore we give up the prisoner; we oughter get it in writin’ that the admiral will have him ’ung at the yard arm before six bells. That’s the way they uster do.”
“I am afraid,” replied Dan, “that we’ll have to leave out that part of the ceremony. Besides the admiral is out of town and has taken the fleet with him.”
By this time a small crowd of curious people had commenced to assemble on the bank. This was what Tom Pagdin wanted.
He lay off and waited, killing time with trifles of persiflage and badinage until the entire town turned out. Then he stood up in the boat, and with one eye on the scowling face of Jean Petit, he gave the crowd a little of that gentleman’s history, and instructed them to get the strongest cell in the lock-up aired at once for his reception.
When the people got an inkling of what had happened, they howled questions at Dan and George.
But Dan simply referred them to Tom Pagdin. He said that Tom was the commander of a pirate fleet which happened to be in the offing, and that he had just dropped in at Wharfdale to clear up the mysteries of the bank robbery and murder which had been agitating their minds. He added dryly that it was mainly for the sake of giving his friend Chard an opportunity to bring libel actions against some prominent amateur detectives in Wharfdale that he had taken a temporary commission under Captain Thomas Pagdin.
“Why it’s that young Tom Pagdin that was lost up the river!” cried an excited citizen.
“An’ the red-headed kid’s Dave Gibson,” said another. “They’ve been dragging the Broadstream for ’em the last two weeks, everybody up there thought they was drounded!”
“Well I never!” ejaculated a woman in hearing. “Them two. You don’t tell me that they had anything to do with the robbery of the bank?”