He was a tall and fine-looking gentleman, about forty years of age. He gave his name as Oscar Ranson, and said he was a lawyer in New York.
"I have been spending a few weeks at Port Jefferson on Long Island, and yesterday set out for a two days' cruise up the shore," he explained. "But I've had enough of it," he added with a shudder.
We made Mr. Ranson as comfortable as possible, and, while he was sipping a cup of hot coffee, he asked me about myself, saying that I didn't look much like a sailor.
And then I told him my story. Of course he was surprised.
"I wouldn't have believed it possible!" he exclaimed. "But you have done me a good turn, and now I'll do as much for you."
"Do you know Mr. Ira Mason, a lawyer?" I asked.
"Quite well."
"He is a friend of mine. He has an office in the same building with my uncle."
"Yes? What is your uncle's name?"
"Mr. Felix Stillwell."