"Aye, and can't move. The trouble he had with Jurgens and Whistler was the cause of it, Townsend thinks. But we couldn't do the business for you—it's you, and no one else, that Townsend wants. He gave us a letter for you and wants you to call on him at midnight, to-night."
"What for?"
"He wouldn't tell us, but said he had explained that in the letter."
"Where's the letter?"
There was a silence while the little group tramped over the planks in the direction of Stuyvesant Dock.
"Oh, dowse me," muttered Dick. "I feel like thirty cents!"
"I feel lesser as dot," chimed in Carl.
"What happened to the letter?" queried Matt.
"You see, matey," explained Dick, very much crestfallen, "when Carl and I saw that other fellow on the levee, we were sure he was you."
"But he was dressed differently."