The effect of this amazing announcement upon the uniniated member of the council was not as great as the lawyers expected it to be. “You don’t tell me!” was his sole comment.
Graves broke in impatiently: “I think, Captain Warren,” he declared, “that you probably do not realize what this means. Besides proving your brother dishonest, it means that this stockholder, whoever he may have been—”
“Hey? What’s that? Don’t you know who he was?”
“No, we do not. The name upon the stub of the transfer book has been scratched out.”
Captain Elisha looked the speaker in the face, then slowly turned his look upon the other two faces.
“Scratched out?” he repeated. “Who scratched it out?”
Graves shrugged his shoulders.
“Yes, yes,” said the captain. “You don’t know, but we’re all entitled to guess, hey?... Humph!”
“If this person is living,” began Sylvester, “it follows that—”
“Hold on a minute! I don’t know much about corporations, of course—that’s more in your line than ’tis in mine—but I want to ask one question. You say this what-d’ye-call-it—this Akrae thingamajig—was sold out, hull, canvas and riggin’, to a crowd in Brazil? It’s gone out of business then? It’s dead?”