“What yer mean, Inspector?”
“How much did you pay for her?”
“Three hunderd—why?” Toby’s lips trembled a little and he searched the inspector’s face anxiously.
“Who’d you buy her from?” the inspector persisted.
“Ol’ Flint! Josiah Flint,” Toby answered suspiciously. “Why?”
“I thought it must be somebody like him. I hate to spring it on you, Dare, but you’ve paid three hundred dollars too much. She’s not worth a dime.”
Toby Dare cleared his throat and a strange look came into his kindly gray eyes.
“Inspector ——, yer mean this here barge ain’t....” he began.
“She’s not seaworthy,” the inspector interposed as kindly as he could. “It’s not safe to keep her afloat, Dare. Flint gypped you. You should have had somebody look her over before you bought her—somebody that knew an up-and-coming barge from driftwood. That’s all you got on your hands, I’m sorry to say—driftwood. Her keel’s as rotten as a keel can possibly be.”
Toby Dare’s tanned, weather-beaten face went suddenly white and he made a funny little clicking noise with his tongue.