As Joe nodded, then dropped down into the motor room, intending to go by the passageway under the bridge deck, Tom noted a lurking figure a few feet behind him.
“Hullo! What are you doing there, Jasper?” queried the young captain.
“Jest mindin’ my own business,” replied the man, with a half-surly grin.
“I’m minding mine, in asking you,” retorted Halstead, quietly. “I don’t like passengers so close to me when I’m handling the boat.”
“I s’pose mebbe you don’t,” rejoined Jasper, yet making no move.
“Won’t you take a hint?” asked Tom, rather bluntly.
“Where d’ye want me to stand?” asked the fellow, sulkily.
“You could go further aft, for instance,” 114 replied Tom. One hand on the wheel, he stood half-turned, eying this stubborn guard.
“Oh, all right,” came gruffly from Jasper, as he started slowly aft.
“Maybe I’m wrong for thinking much about it,” muttered Tom, under his breath, “yet it was this same man who was so close to us the other night when Mr. Seaton and I were talking about the papers hidden in the closet at the bungalow.”