Hal chased him in earnest then, leaping along in great strides until he came back to where he had started. Pizella was not to be seen, however, neither down the stairway nor anywhere about the upper deck, which the irate young man circled again.
After a futile search, Hal strolled past the saloon. Señor Goncalves was one of the many passengers in there making merry and contributing his share to the sprightly entertainment. In point of fact, the dapper Brazilian was the proverbial “life of the party” and his soft, purring voice preceded several outbursts of laughter.
Hal went on and he had no sooner got out of earshot of the merrymakers when he heard a door close up forward. Even as he looked, he recognized Pizella’s small figure going toward the stairway. He knew it was the half-caste; that time he could have sworn to it, yet....
CHAPTER V
A STORY OF THE PAST
“He swore up and down that he wasn’t near this deck,” Hal declared vehemently, when he got back to his uncle’s cabin ten minutes later. “No one in the steerage saw him come up or come down. I was the only one who saw him slinking around up here—I know it was him this time, Unk! But the sailors below thought I was seeing things I guess, for when I got down there, friend Pizella had his shoes and trousers off and was stretched out in his bunk as nice as you please.”
“Strange, strange,” murmured Denis Keen, putting his book down on the night table beside his elbow.
“Sure it is. The way I figured it, he must have started peeling off on his way down. Undressing on the wing, huh?”
“It would seem so, Hal. Your very earnestness convinces me that it was no mere hunch you acted upon this time. The fellow is up to something—that’s a certainty. But he wasn’t anywhere near this cabin. I heard not a sound.”
“And the Brazil-nut was strutting his stuff in the saloon, so he’s out of the picture.”
“Well, that’s something to feel comfortable about.” Denis Keen laughed. “Surely you didn’t think....”