“I mean to say that very thing,” replied Chap. “But you can tell your secret just as freely to me as to him. I am Chapman Webster, his particular friend. He’s pretty heavily loaded down with responsibilities and bothers just now, and I’m taking part of them off his shoulders.”
“And I suppose my affairs fall to your share,” said the man.
“Yes,” replied Chap, “we divided things up, and I took you. I have the greatest fancy for working out hidden clues, and all that sort of thing. It’s something connected with the Berkeley family you came about, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the other, “it is.”
“Well, then,” said Chap, “just begin at the very beginning of your story, and tell it straight through; and don’t leave out any of the points. I’m just the fellow to help you straighten out things, if you’ve got them a little crooked.”
The man reflected a few moments. He had nothing on earth to say to Chap Webster; and yet he thought this boy might be as able to answer the few questions he wished to put as Philip Berkeley would be, and it was likely that he would be much more willing to do so. But Chap had evidently prepared himself for some business of thrilling interest, and it would not do to put him off with a few apparently unimportant remarks.
The man took off his black straw hat, looked at it, then put it on again. Then he began:
“About the close of the war of 1812——”
“By Jupiter!” cried Chap. “Was it about a ship?”
“Yes,” said the other, “it was a ship.”