"N-no; I'm very certain I don't."
"Let's see. Did you ever hear of a man named Arthur Miller, of Sebogue?"
The elder man started, paling a trifle. The younger man stopped his walk, his face settling into a black scowl.
"No-o; I don't know Arthur Miller," replied the older man; with an effort.
"Queer," mused Mr. Farnum. "It just came to me that you were Mr.
Miller. However, of course you know best about that."
"Thank you," nodded the older man, with an attempt at a smile. "I started to tell you that my son started out late this afternoon, in the sloop that lies overturned yonder, intending to put me aboard the yacht of friends who are passing down the coast. I have most pressing business with those friends. The business is to be finished on the coming trip. It seems that our friends are late; still, I know they must be on their way down the coast."
"As they haven't shown up, at least, not close enough," proposed Jacob Farnum, "we'll put you ashore at Dunhaven, and doubtless you can catch up with your friends in some way."
"Dunhaven? Then you must be Mr. Farnum," cried the older man, eagerly. "This must be the torpedo boat you were building. And these young men belong to the Navy? Midshipmen, no doubt?"
"There are no Navy men on board," replied the builder. "These young men are my employes. But we are losing time drifting about on the high seas. We will put back to Dunhaven, and you can tell us your story, if you choose, on the way."
"But my father does not care to go ashore," interposed the son. "It is vitally important to him that he find the schooner and join his friends aboard. In fact, I may add that a very considerable sum in the way of a profitable business deal depends upon his going aboard the schooner."