“No; we haven’t been aboard of her at all. We didn’t want to do anything to excite the suspicion of her captain. But we haven’t the least doubt he has some stolen cotton in his possession, and if he has, it is almost certainly in his lighter.”
“What makes you think so, if you haven’t been on board the boat? How did you get track of the matter?”
“We owe it to my assistant here. We have been on the track of wool thieves for some time. They steal the wool while it is being conveyed to the bonded warehouses, you know. And so the owner loses his property and Uncle Sam loses the revenue on the stolen wool. We were nosing around in South Street last night, when my assistant overheard a fellow say he had a jag of cotton to sell. We kept tabs on the fellow and he proved to belong on the Dixie.”
“Aren’t those rather slender grounds on which to accuse a man of theft?” said Mr. Morgan, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “I have no doubt this fellow may have been stealing. We are losing property in transit all the time. But we have enough trouble with our boatmen as it is. I don’t want to accuse one of them of dishonesty unless we can make good on the accusation.”
“We don’t have to accuse anybody of anything. Let’s go examine the boat and see what’s in it.”
“But that would arouse suspicion.”
“Not a bit. I’m a prospective purchaser for the craft. You are the seller. Of course I want to see what I’m going to buy, before I buy it.”
“Of course,” said the steamship manager. “That’s as simple as can be. What is the best way to get at it?”
“Better get the craft out in the river. Then we’ll have everything at our mercy, including the captain.”
“To be sure. We’ll do it.” Mr. Morgan turned to his telephone and gave a brusque order. Then he rose, put on his hat, and turned to his stenographer. “I’ll be back in——” He appealed to Sheridan. “How long?” he asked.