Captain Gay sat down and looked thoughtfully out of the window.
“Perhaps I must take you into my confidence,” he remarked, in his slow, quiet tones, “although at first I had thought this action would be unnecessary. I’ve an idea I’d like to own a ship myself, and to trade in a small way between here and Portland.”
“And the golden island, occasionally; eh, Cap’n?” returned Uncle Naboth, shrewdly. “I’ve heard from Sam here how you lost the paper containing your observations; but, I suppose you could find the place again, if you wanted to.”
Captain Gay flushed a deep red.
“Sir,” he answered, “you wrong me with your suspicions. I shall never revisit that island under any circumstances. Nor do I wish anyone else to do so. That is the true explanation of why I lost that paper.”
“Did you lose it?”
“I threw it overboard.”
Uncle Naboth whistled.
“I’m free to confess, sir, that I’m all at sea,” he said.
The Captain arose and paced the room with unusual agitation.