His tone was sufficiently ironical to put Harry on his mettle, and he furnished a full and particular account of the vessel. When he had finished Mr. Barclay glanced at him with amusement in his eyes.
"You have an idea there might be smugglers on board of her?" he suggested.
"It's more than an idea. I'm sure."
"I wonder if you could tell me why?"
It was rather difficult to answer, but Harry made the attempt, furnishing his questioner with half a dozen reasons which did not seem to have much effect on him.
"Well," he persisted, "you're convinced she had opium and Chinamen on board her?"
"Aren't you?"
Mr. Barclay looked up with a smile. "At the present moment I can't form an opinion. After all, it's possible."
He rose, and as he was strolling away toward the house Harry's face contracted into an indignant frown.
"That man must have been cooking, or something of the kind, at Forks Butte," he broke out contemptuously. "Anyway, it was the last time he ever did anything worth talking about. Did you ever run up against such a stuffed image?"