“I suppose I shall only be able to approach our conspirators as an open enemy now,” said Kenyon to the girl.
She looked at him inquiringly.
“If Forrester has the packet, he has learned what you learned, that I am not the sort of person I seemed to be. Though,” and he looked puzzled, “Farbush must have known its contents all along, now that I think of it.”
“There is nothing in the packet that would cause them to suspect you of being an honest man,” she assured him. “That is, not unless,” and her voice sank a little as she realized what she was saying, “they are inclined to believe it of you.”
His heart bounded madly and his blood went tingling through his veins. But he only said:
“Thank you. That is kind of you.”
Webster put his head into the cabin. “I say, Kenyon,” called he, “the captain would like to speak with you for a moment. It looks important.”
“Pardon me,” said the adventurer to the girl.
He went upon deck. The owner of the craft, a round-bodied, good-natured looking man, was at the wheel.
“Excuse me, Mr. Kenyon,” spoke he, “but your friend here tells me that it is the steam yacht Wizard that you want to meet.”