“You, sir,” answered Lawrence. “I recall quite distinctly that ’twas you spoke to me about the ’eavy luggage.”
“Who took from you the wireless message which you brought yesterday to our stateroom, addressed to the representative of the Sharkey Detective Agency?”
“You, sir.”
“Who handed you your tip a few minutes ago for serving us during the voyage?”
“You did, thank you, sir.”
A figure of dignity pushed forward through the ring of excited spectators and a sonorous, compelling voice was raised impressively. Major Slocum had been late in arriving upon the scene, but what he now said earned for him instant attention.
“Mr. Officer,” announced the Major with a gesture which comprehended the central pair of figures, “you may accept it from me as an absolute and indisputable fact that this gentleman, who calls himself Brown, is a bona-fide detective. I gleaned as much from my conversation with him upon the occasion of our first [453] meeting. He evinced a wide knowledge of police matters. Of the other person I know nothing, except that, since Brown is the detective, he must perforce be the prisoner.” He cleared his throat before going on:
“Moreover, deeply though I regret to bring a lady, and especially a young lady, into a controversy involving a person who is charged with crime”—here he blighted the hapless Keller with a glare—“deeply as I regret it, I may say that my niece is in position to supply further evidence.”
The crowd parted to admit Miss Lillian Cartwright, then closed in behind her. Excitement flushed the young lady’s cheeks becomingly. The first officer bowed to her:
“Pardon me, miss, but would you mind telling us what you know?”