"Is nothing," answered Blake. "It is a gift."
"Ah, but, my dear sir, that is too much! I could not think of taking it without pay!" insisted Mr. Labenstein, as he flashed on the light and then slipped the switch back in place again. "I protest that I must pay you."
"Please don't insist on paying," begged Blake, "for I shall only have to refuse to take any money. Please consider the light a gift. I have a spare one."
"You are very kind, I'm sure," said the other, bowing with some exaggeration, it seemed to the boys. "I appreciate it, I assure you, and I shall look for a chance to repay the favor."
"That's all right," said Blake, and he tried to make his voice sound hearty. "You are welcome to the light."
"A thousand thanks," murmured Mr. Labenstein, as he bowed himself out.
And then, when the door had closed on him and they had taken the precaution of closing their transom, Joe burst out in a cautious whisper with:
"What in the world did you let him take it for, Blake Stewart? Don't you see what his game is?"
"Yes," was Blake's quiet answer; "I think I do."
"Well, then——"