Instead of answering, Sylvester pushed an electric button on his desk. The office boy answered the ring.
“Have Mr. Kuhn and Mr. Graves arrived?” asked the lawyer.
“Yes, sir. Both of them, sir.”
“Tell them Captain Warren is here, and ask them to join us in the inner room. Remind Mr. Graves to bring the papers. And, Tim, remember that none of us is to be disturbed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tim and departed.
Captain Elisha regarded his friend with some dismay.
“Say!” he exclaimed, “this must be serious, if it takes the skipper and both mates to handle it.”
Sylvester did not smile. “It is,” he answered. “Come.”
He led the way into the room opening from the rear of his own. It was a large apartment with a long table in the center. Mr. Kuhn, brisk and business-like, was already there. He shook hands with his client. As he did so, Graves, dignified and precise as ever, entered, carrying a small portfolio filled with papers.
“Mornin’, Mr. Graves,” said the captain; “glad to see you, even under such distressin’ circumstances, as the undertaker said to the sick man. Feelin’ all right again, I hope. No more colds or nothin’ like that?”