It was by such ingenious and apparently disinterested questions as these, that the reporter gradually led Roy Sheldon on to tell his story from beginning to end. He was really astonished when the boy brought his narrative to a close, and told himself that he was master of some secrets that would eventually bring Colonel Shelly and his superintendent into trouble, and the runaway Rowe into his rights. More than one reporter has run to earth criminals whom the best detectives could not track, and Roy's visitor suddenly resolved that he would do a little in that line himself. He would have given something handsome to know where Rowe was at that minute and what he intended to do; but Roy could not enlighten him. On the other hand, he asked the reporter to tell him what he knew about Rowe himself.
"That boy is well fixed over there on the island," said he. "Everybody is kind to him, he has everything money can buy, and he wouldn't run away unless there was good cause for it," said Roy. "I wasn't on the island long enough to learn much about him; can't you tell me something?"
"I am sorry to say I can't," said the reporter, as he arose from his chair. "I have never been on the island, and don't know the first thing about Rowe Shelly and his family relations, except what I have heard in a roundabout way. Look here," he added, sinking his voice almost to a whisper; "do you see those three fellows talking with the clerk? Look out for them. They are reporters for evening papers. Tell 'em you're busy—that your eyes are so black you can't talk to 'em—tell 'em anything you can think of, for if you don't, they will have you in print sure pop. So-long, and a pleasant trip if I don't see you again before you leave the city."
So saying the reporter winked at Roy, and hurried away to write up the "sequel" for the evening edition of his paper, while Roy hid behind his copy of the Tribune. The three men against whom he had been warned came in at last, but if they wanted information they did not get much. Roy was very unsociable, and they finally departed with the conviction that the Tribune's man had been too sharp for them this time.
Roy's next visitor was Willis, and the next two were Joe Wayring and Arthur Hastings, who would scarcely have recognized him if it had not been for his uniform. They listened in great amazement to his story, which I afterward heard just as I have tried to tell it, and never once said a word to interrupt him. Arthur's indignation was almost unbounded; while the clear-sighted Joe saw two or three things in the narrative which proved to his satisfaction that Roy's visit to the White Squall was not purely accidental. But the trouble was, Roy himself did not think so, and he had not really said anything that was calculated to throw suspicion upon the superintendent. It was plain, however, that Willis was afraid he might say something, for as soon as Roy's story was finished he got upon his feet and put on his hat.
"As you remarked a little while ago, 'all's well that ends well,'" said he. "I am heartily glad you got safely out of that scrape, Mr. Sheldon, and hope you will speedily recover from the effects of your treatment at the hands of that brutal mate. I wish he might be punished for it; but it is just as those men on the light-ship told you. The White Squall will not return for two or three years, and by that time the men who now comprise her crew may be scattered to the ends of the globe. I wish you good-morning, and a pleasant run across the State."
So saying, Willis bowed himself out of the reading-room, and Babcock went with him, leaving the three friends alone.
"Say, old fellow," exclaimed Joe, settling back in his chair and looking at Roy, "you've more pluck than I ever gave you credit for, but not half as much mother-wit."
"What has gone wrong with you now?" asked Roy, in reply.
"Nothing whatever; but if you don't find that something has gone wrong with you, I shall miss my guess. And you are the boy who wouldn't be pumped, are you? Well, you are a good one."