CHAPTER XXXVII
Ten minutes later Cappy dashed up to the entrance of Greenwich Street Pier and found Matt Peasley waiting for him, with Captain Murphy. Miss Keenan had already gone aboard the Moana, the huge funnel of which, as Cappy noted with a thrill, was still sticking up over the roof of the dock. He crooked his finger and Michael J. Murphy leaped up on the running board of his car.
“Mike,” said Cappy solemnly, “listen to me! Here's a letter of credit in your name for twenty-five thousand dollars, and an advice to the bank in Papeete from our bank here stating that the letter of credit has been issued. Give this letter to the purser, together with a good-sized bill, and ask him to deliver it to the Papeete bank when the Moana arrives there. Here, also, is a letter of credit for Miss Keenan in the sum of fifty thousand—and the bank in Papeete has no notice of it! Remember that! It's important. Keep it to yourself. Miss Keenan has the expense money for both of you; tell her to split the roll with you. Tell her, also, that her name from now until she gets back is Matilda Keenan, and to sign her drafts that way.
“Here are the signature cards. You sign yours and have her sign hers; then you give both to Captain Porter, the pilot, when he leaves the ship, and ask him to deliver them to me. I, in turn, will deliver them to the bank. Tell Miss Keenan she is absolutely under your orders; that she's to forget she ever heard of the lumber and shipping business. Both of you are to keep away from a man by the name of J. Augustus Redell. He's aboard and he's our enemy, captain. He's going to bid forty thousand dollars on the German steamer Valkyrie; so you bid forty thousand and five dollars—and take her away from him. At the very last minute have Miss Keenan put in a bid for thirty thousand—in case—you know, Mike—we might catch it going and coming. It might pay to have you fall down on your bid—you know, Mike! She's the dark horse—the reserve capital. Papeete—one-horse town, Mike. Everybody knows the other fellow's business—principal competitor for the steamer is an Australian steamship company. Considering condition world politics today, and no French bidders, naturally Frenchmen will pull for the Britisher. Expect bank will leak and tell 'em you only arrived with twenty-five thousand—you know, Mike! Can't be too careful. Trust nobody—and remember this man Redell is the smartest young man in the world and the trickiest scoundrel under heaven. Don't hold him cheap. He's a holy terror! He'd pinch the gold out of your wisdom teeth while you'd be laughing at him.”
“How high am I to go—if it becomes necessary to bid more than—”
“Shoot the piece!” Cappy ordered. It is to be regretted that the Bilgewater Club, cut off from the house rules in a private dining room, had a habit of shooting craps occasionally after luncheon, and Cappy Ricks had picked up the patois of the game. “Seventy-five thousand is the limit; but satisfy yourself she's worth the limit before you go to it.”
“And Redell is going to bid forty thousand, sir?”
“That's his limit. He told me so in confidence when he felt certain I couldn't possibly be a competitor—told it to me, and kidded me for a dead one at twenty minutes of one, when he knew I couldn't possibly have time to act. But he forgot the mail—it was delayed—”
“I get you, sir. There's more to this job than merely acquiring the ship,” retorted the astute Murphy.
“There's a million dollars' worth of satisfaction in it for me if I can beat Gus Redell to that steamer. He says I've lost my punch.”