"Positive," was Nat's answer. "I knew that wallet too well."
"Then I'll make some inquiries. Suppose you come with me."
Nat and the pilot found the mate in his office, looking over some papers.
"Nat thinks you have something that belonged to his father," said Mr. Weatherby, pleasantly.
"He does, eh?" snapped the mate. "Well, he's mistaken, that's all I've got to say. Now I wish you'd get out of here. I'm busy."
"But it won't do any harm to make some inquiries," went on the pilot. "Do you mind showing me the pocketbook?"
"There it is!" said Mr. Bumstead suddenly, pulling the wallet in question from his pocket. "He said it had his father's name on? Well, it hasn't, you can see for yourself," and he quickly turned the pocketbook from side to side, to show that there were no letters on it. Then, without giving Mr. Weatherby a chance to look at it closely, he thrust it back into his pocket.
"Are you satisfied?" he demanded. Nat hesitated.
"I—I suppose so," answered the pilot. "There is no name on that. Nat must have been mistaken."
"I told him he was dreaming," answered the mate, with a leer. "Now don't bother me again."