"I—I—where is he?" questioned the youth, weakly.
"He? Who?"
"The thief—the man who struck me down?"
"I haven't seen anybody but you around here."
"A thief who has my uncle's watch came in here, and I followed him, and he struck me down with a club. When—how long is it since you found me here?"
"Several minutes ago. I thought you were drunk at first, and was going to hand you over to an officer."
"I don't drink." Walter essayed to stand up, but found himself too weak. "Gracious, my head is spinning around like a top!" he groaned.
"You must have got a pretty good rap to be knocked out like this," commented the watchman kindly. "So the man was a thief? It's a pity he wasn't the one to be knocked down. Do you know the fellow?"
"I would know him—if we ever meet again. But I fancy he won't let the grass grow under his feet, after attacking me like this."
"I'll take a run around the wharf and see if I can spot any stranger," concluded the watchman, and hurried off. Another watchman was aroused, and both made a thorough investigation, but, of course, nobody was brought to light.