"We intended to hire a tug and go over to the island after you," answered Arthur.
"But you see there's no need of it, don't you? Mr. Willis attended to that as soon as he became satisfied that I wasn't Rowe Shelly."
"Ah! That puts a different look on the matter," said Joe. "But where did you get those black eyes if you didn't get them while escaping from the island?"
"I got them on the White Squall," replied Roy, "and that brings me to the story I was getting ready to tell Mr. Willis when you came in. But before I begin, go out and ask that detective to come here. I should like to see the photograph he's got in his pocket. I am told it looks just like me."
"And so it does, at first glance," said Arthur, rising from his seat. "But the more one gazes upon it, the less it looks like you. You shall see for yourself."
"Let me go after Babcock, please," Willis interposed, "and you stay here and talk to your friends. I will bring him right in."
There was nothing strange in this proposition, so Arthur sat down again, while Willis went out to make things straight with the detective. He didn't want him to come into Roy's presence until he had opportunity to post him.
"So that's the scamp who got you into so much trouble, is it?" said Arthur, in tones of disgust. "We meant to have him arrested if he didn't talk pretty smoothly to us, and yet we find you and him here as thick as a couple of thieves."
"Now, what's the sense in going on like that?" demanded Roy. "If I am satisfied with his story, I'm sure you ought to be. Willis is all right. The minute he learned that I wasn't Rowe Shelly, he woke me up in the middle of the night, put me into a boat with two good men to row it, and sent me over to the city. He was as anxious to be rid of me as I was to find you. Now see if you can't treat him decently when he comes back."