“Then,” concluded Clay, “when we reach the truth of it, we’ll discover that it was Chet who was around here last night, and who threw the bag on deck. You know we have been thinking, all along, that he might have taken it.”
“That’s what Jule insists on,” Alex. returned, “while the rest of us think one of the visitors took it, and that Chet chased off the boat to get it back, not knowing that the diamonds had been taken out of it.”
“It seems clear now,” Clay replied, “that Chet took it. In the first place, there is no good reason for supposing that the visitors would find the bag, or take it if they did find it; or take any trouble to return it after they had found its contents of no value. Chet got it, all right, and, disappointed and chagrined at the substitution we had made, he lost no time in throwing it back at us.”
“Chet was broke, wasn’t he?” asked Alex., with a sly grin.
“So far as I know, yes. Anyway, he didn’t look like a millionaire when we took him on board and fixed him out with a suit of your clothes!”
“Then how would he ride up the river in a steamer, or ride down the river to the next town to take the steamer, or hire a rowboat and pay the captain of the steamer for letting him off in his boat as soon as he saw the light of the Rambler?”
“You smash all my solutions,” laughed Clay. “Now, give me one of your own, so I can smash that,”
“I ain’t no prophet!” grinned the red-headed boy, “but I’m gambling that when we get down to the bottom of matters we’ll find Red, the Robber, in the mess!”
“We have already found him in the mess,” laughed Clay. “He knew, according to your story, that I had put something in the safety vaults! Besides, he seemed to own the steamer you were on, didn’t he?”
“He seemed to be the boss.”