“That is the lad,” Clay answered, with an amused smile. “We have had him on board the Rambler on two occasions, and each time he has mysteriously disappeared.”
“Where did you see him last?”
“At Memphis.”
“That was after you rented a deposit box at a bank?”
“You seem to know all about it,” grinned Clay. “Yes, he left soon after I rented the deposit box in the bank. By the way, do you know a giant of a man, red-headed and kind-hearted, who is a gentleman of leisure one moment and a river pirate the next?”
Clay thought he saw suppressed excitement in the face of the sheriff as he asked the question, and waited expectantly for an answer. The officer hesitated before saying a word, then he pushed the direct question aside.
“There are a good many men along the river who might answer to the description,” he said, “but I can’t call any names to mind just now. What about him?”
“Why, I met him on the river,” Clay answered, resolved to be just as secretive as the officer, “and I also met a man I took to be him at Memphis. I have a notion that I would like to meet him again some time. He’s all right, that man!”
“Tell me this,” said the sheriff, then, “what did you boys discover in the old house on the bank of the lagoon? I understand that at least two of your party spent the day there. I’d like to know what they saw and heard in the house.”
Clay regarded the sheriff suspiciously.