"Is he with you here?"
"No, he has gone out West to hunt Indians."
Dan, the news-agent, laughed.
"He'll be coming back soon without having seen an Indian, I have no doubt. I say, Dean, isn't it rather remarkable that there are robberies wherever you go?"
"Yes, it is singular," said Dean in a musing tone.
"It really looks suspicious," continued Dan. "However, you are my friend and I won't give you away."
"No, don't!" said Dean, accepting the joke in good humor.
Dean walked away, plunged in thought. Again he went outside, and walked round to an unfrequented part of the steamer. Suddenly he saw a man in front of him draw something from his pocket, and with a quick movement throw it far out upon the water. It was light enough to see that it was a white pasteboard box of small size.
Rather surprised, Dean scanned the person who had done this, and to his further astonishment recognized him as Mr. Kirby, his employer.
Turning quickly, Peter Kirby in his turn saw Dean's eyes fixed upon him, and he became irritated and alarmed.