“I think that would be delightful, John,” his wife replied.
“I have other fish to fry. Sorry!” Maisie answered him. “If you had hinted of this yesterday, Uncle John——”
“My dear Maisie, the idea but this moment occurred to me. Better alter your plans and come along.”
She shook her head.
“It occurred to me this instant—as I have already stated—” Casson continued, “to escape boredom for two weeks. Our schooner Moorea is in port and will remain here that long, in all probability. That means the office will be set by the heels. Her bear-like skipper, Larrieau, will go roaring from one room to the other, disturbing everybody except Pritchard and amusing everybody except me. I cannot tolerate the man, and if I should see too much of him I fear I might forget his record for efficiency and dismiss him. He was a pet of Dan’s father, and Dan, too, makes much of him. I dislike pets in a business office.”
Maisie looked at him coolly. “Then you will be happy to know that your contemplated exile to Del Monte is quite unnecessary, Uncle John. Captain Larrieau was discovered, upon arrival, to be a leper, so he sent ashore for Dan, settled all of his business and committed suicide by drowning yesterday evening.”
“Bless my soul! Where did you glean this astounding intelligence?”
“I talked with Dan over the telephone late last night.”
“You should have told me sooner, Maisie.”
Old Casson’s voice was stern; his weak, handsome face pretended chagrin.