"What happened to the Brutus?"
"She just disappeared, Donald. She was tied up alongside the barge—"
The heavy hand on Mr. Daney's shoulder tightened a little. Donald was merely holding fast to the general manager in order to stay on his feet, but Mr. Daney credited him with being the victim of rising anger.
"When did Nan leave Port Agnew, Mr. Daney?"
"Let me see, Donald." Mr. Daney tugged at his beard. "Why, she left two weeks ago yesterday. Yes; she left on the nineteenth."
"When did you settle with her for the loss of the Brutus?"
"On the sixteenth," Daney answered glibly.
"How much?"
"Twenty-five hundred dollars. It was more than the Brutus was worth, but I disliked to appear niggardly in the matter, Donald. I knew you and your father would approve whatever sum I settled for—and the loss of the little boat provided a nice opportunity for generosity without hurting the girl's pride."
"Yes—thank you, Mr. Daney. That was kind and thoughtful of you." Donald spoke the words slowly, as if he searched his brain carefully for each word and then had to coax his tongue into speaking it. "You settled, then, two days after the boat disappeared. Fast work. Nobody up here would steal the boat. Too much distance between ports—run short of gasoline, you know, on her limited tank capacity—and if anybody had purchased cased gasoline around here to load on deck, you'd know of it. Hard to conceal or disguise a forty-foot boat, too." His fingers closed like steel nippers over Mr. Daney's shoulder. "Where did you hide the boat, Mr. Daney? Answer me. I'll not be trifled with."