“Silence!” commanded Tremaine, sternly. “Don’t dare couple Miss Silsbee’s name with your own dishonored one!”
“Are you going to take me back to Tampa on this boat?” inquired Oliver Dixon after a moment’s silence.
“On the ‘Restless’,” replied one of the policemen.
“You are going to bring me face to face—after this—with Mr. Tremaine’s ladies?” demanded Dixon, paling still more. “That’s tough treatment.”
“You’ll have to go on the ‘Restless,’” insisted the policeman. “We have nothing to do with this craft.”
President Haight, who had at first remained on the “Restless,” now came over the side, appearing at the after companionway.
“Is the money safe?” inquired the bank man, huskily.
“You’ll find it all in the satchel in that stateroom,” stated Dixon, nodding at the door of the apartment in question.
The satchel was quickly brought out. Haight, as the most expert money-counter, was assigned to the task of counting then and there, which he did at the cabin table.
“Sixty thousand dollars, less seven hundred,” he announced, finally. “Dixon, where’s the missing seven hundred?”