"Ericksen seemed to think you might not," said Dennis dryly. "He offered me a thousand dollars to persuade you to go. I refused to give him your address; we came to Chicago together last night, and I told him you'd meet us for dinner. That's all. Point Three, why did he offer me that money?"
He was silent for a minute, then knocked out his pipe and swung around to face her.
"Look squarely at it, Florence: there's something mighty queer in the wind! Point one: why did Boatswain Joe come in person to get you? Point two: why are his friends taking care of your father? Point three: why do they try to bribe me to persuade you to go? I don't like it."
She gazed at him silently, frowningly.
"I can't answer any of those questions," she said at last, slowly. "But if my father is alive, and in that condition—my place is with him! Let's leave it until we see this man. He will perhaps have some proofs to offer me. He would have no incentive to tell such a story if it were not true.... About yourself, Tom: what do you intend to do now?"
He laughed shortly. "I've scarcely thought about it, Florence; this other thing has been on my mind all night. But I know this: I'll not let you go West in company with that sailor! That's dead sure. If his story is really true, then I'm going along, somehow!"
He glanced at his watch, and rose. "Time! Say nothing definite to Ericksen. Listen to him and form your own conclusions. Make an appointment with him for to-morrow to give him your answer; better make it for the 'Royton' again. Make him agree to pay our expenses West."
"You know I'll not take his money, Tom—on such an errand."
"I will, though." And Dennis laughed. "I'm down to thirty-four dollars! Besides, I want to see just how readily he'll agree to shell out real money. There's something queer about that crowd's being willing to pay so high to get you to Vancouver!"
"All sailors are generous," said the girl softly. "Perhaps some friends of father's are behind it."