“Then the fellow lies,” retorted Tom bluntly, indignantly. “You’ve been good to me in telling me this, so I’m going to assure you again, on my honor, that Mr. Delavan isn’t dead; and I’m equally certain that he has done nothing wrong.”
The “Sun” man looked keenly at the boy, concluding that the blue-uniformed young skipper was telling the truth as he knew it.
“Thank you,” said the reporter, simply. “I’ll try to keep you posted on any other wild rumors I hear. But I wish you’d lead me, alone, to Delavan.”
“I will,” promised Tom, artlessly.
“When?”
“When the time comes that I have a right to.”
Just as the “Sun” reporter walked away the young skipper caught sight of Jed, standing under a tree in the grounds, making signs. Beside Jed stood a big, broad-shouldered hulking young fellow with a face as freckled as the map of the Thousand Islands.
Taking a last look inside, and seeing Ellis still chatting with two of the New York reporters, Halstead ran down the veranda steps, crossing the grounds to his Nantucket friend.
“Say, cap,” began Jed, affectionately, “I’m terribly sorry, but I guess I’ve got to quit this cruise. It’s mean, but there’s trouble at home. Mother’s ill. I’ve just had a wire from Dad. He doesn’t say it’s the worst, Tom, but he advises me to come home. So I’ve got to go by the next train, which leaves in twenty minutes. You won’t blame me, old fellow, will you!”
“Blame you?” repeated Halstead, quickly. “Of course not. I’d drop anything if I had the same kind of a telegram. We’ll miss you, of course, Jed, but it can’t be helped. Well get along somehow.”