"Then you followed them?"
"Certainly. They went to a place on the North Side, a girls' school where she teaches; presently he came out and walked to a lodging-house on North Clark Street. I followed him inside and engaged a room adjoining his, which I shall occupy this afternoon. He is on the third étage—what you call—yes, flight! Upstairs."
"Good, Dumont." Ericksen ran his fingers through his tousled red hair. "We've made quick work of it, eh? Got here two days ago, and ready to slip our cable to-morrow night. 'Move sharp,,' says the Skipper; 'crack on all sail!' And we've done it. Hey? You've got your stuff all complete?"
Dumont lighted a cigarette and blew a thin cloud, nodding.
"All done. Everything is to be ready for me to-morrow morning. I shall inspect it; then it will be packed in a special suitcase, ready for the shipment."
"Good. We're leaving to-morrow night at eight bells or thereabouts. Get your ticket in the morning, and check the stuff on it. Sure it's what the Skipper ordered?"
Dumont inspected him with a sleepy cattish smile.
"Me, my friend, I make no mistakes. Ah, that skipper of ours! He is a marvel, a great man! It is not every man who can improve upon the so-wonderful Dumas! But this our skipper, he does so—pouf! Like that. To him—it is nothing at all."
"I dunno about that there Dumaw," returned Ericksen. "I used to know a guy o' that name, a nigger mate on the Columbia packet out o' Singapore——"
Dumont chuckled. "Worry not your so red head, my friend! Now, suppose you have the goodness to explain? Who is this man with the big body and the dangerous eyes?"