Dear Billy:
I do not know the bearer from Adam's off ox; all I know about him is that he has all the outward marks of a gentleman, the courage of a bear-cat, a sense of humor and a head for which the Présidente of Sobrante will gladly pay a considerable number of pesos oro. Don't give up the head, because I like it and we do not need the money—yet. Take him ashore without anybody knowing it; hide him, clothe him, feed him—then forget all about him.
Ever thine,
J. S. Webster.
“Kick the boat ahead again, Cafferty,” Billy ordered quietly. He turned to the late arrival.
“Mr. Man, your credentials are all in apple-pie order. Do you happen to know this bay is swarming with man-eating sharks?”
The man raised a fine, strong, youthful face and grinned at him. “Hobson's choice, Mr. Geary,” he replied. “Afloat or ashore, the sharks are after me. Sir, I am your debtor.” He crawled into the cabin and stretched out on the settee as John Stuart Webster's voice came floating across the dark waters. “Hey, Billy!”
“Hey, yourself!”
“Everything well with you, Billy?”
“All is lovely, Jack, and the goose honks high. By the way, that friend of yours called with his letter of introduction. I took care of him.”