“I should say I do. He’s—by the way, he’s the owner of the good ship Senorita, from whose cargo some of the smuggled goods came! Wait a minute.”
The officer pressed a button and a subordinate promptly appeared to receive orders.
“Tell Mr. Chisolm to get the ship under way as soon as all the boats are aboard, and steam at full speed for Beaufort.”
When the orderly had disappeared, the lieutenant exclaimed:
“I must get to a telegraph office before morning, and we’ll have the smiling Pedro under arrest in Baltimore before another night comes. Go on, Tom! This is the biggest haul made in ten years and we have you boys to thank for it. Go on, please.”
“There isn’t much more for me to tell. The lame man will tell the rest. He has a grudge against the red-faced captain—a life and death enmity—I should say—and it is chiefly to get his foe into all possible trouble that he is willing to tell all he knows. I’ve assured him that if he gives the information necessary to secure the capture of the whole gang and the breaking up the business, the authorities are pretty sure to let him off easily.”
“That’s all right. Now we’ll go to the cabin and see how much our man can tell.”
What the lame man told the lieutenant has no place in this story. He knew, as Tom had supposed, practically all that was needed, and once started in his story he told it all.
It was taken down in shorthand as he told it, and after some difficulties with the pen the man signed it, the four boys signing as witnesses. A few days later the newspapers were filled with news of a “stupendous Revenue capture” and the arrest of a number of highly respectable men caught in a conspiracy to defraud the Government.
When the confessing prisoner had been removed to secure quarters for the night the officer shook hands warmly with the boys, saying: