"So I have."
"Then it's all right. Understand he mentioned me."
"You are Captain Jarrow? And you have a schooner?" asked Trask.
"Jarrow!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Of course! Don't you remember, Dad? Captain Dinshaw told us about Captain Jarrow."
"Oh, yes, yes," said Locke. "You're the man he said would go to his island. This is my daughter, Miss Marjorie—and Mr. Trask."
Jarrow ducked his head. Locke had introduced the others more for the purpose of gaining time to study this hulking, limp-kneed man who stood before him like a gorilla crouched for a spring and squeezing a soft straw hat into a shapeless lump in his hands.
"Won't you sit down?" asked Locke, and took his hat. Jarrow allowed himself to sink carefully into a gold-backed chair of doubtful strength and capacity.
"Perhaps you'll take a cup of tea," suggested Marjorie.
"No, thanks, ma'am. I don't eat nothin' much between meals. See you've been buyin' some of the old cap'n's pictures. He's a oddity, but there's gold on that island of his, right enough."
"Think so?" asked Trask.