“Then, what is his object in persecuting the poor lad? Is he doing it just out of spite?”
“Now, see here; does that look reasonable? Do you think for a moment that an old codger like him—stingy as they make ’em—d’ye think he’d go ter the expense o’ comin ’way down here to New York out of revenge simply? Well, I guess not!”
“Then, what is he up to?” demanded Adoniram, in bewilderment.
“Well, of that I’m not sure, of course; but,” said Caleb, with vehemence, “I’m willing to risk my hull advance that he’s onter this di’mond business.
“Why, Pepper, how could he help being? Didn’t he get that letter of mine, an’ didn’t I give the hull thing away in it, like the blamed idiot I was? Man alive, a sharper like that feller would sell his immortal soul for a silver dollar. What wouldn’t he for a big stake like this?”
“But—” began Adoniram.
“Hold on a minute and let me finish,” urged Caleb. “That scoundrel Leroyd was up to Chopmist, mind ye. Who knows but what he an’ old Arad Tarr have hitched hosses and gone inter this together? I haven’t told either you or Brandon, for I didn’t want to worry you, but I learned yesterday that Jim is tryin’ ter charter a craft of some kind—you an’ I know what for.
“He’s got no money; what rascal of a sailor ever has? He must have backing, then. And who is more likely to be the backer than the old sharper who’s just gone out of here! I tell ye, ’Doniram, they’re after them di’monds, and it behooves us ter git up an’ dust if we want ter beat ’em.”
The ship owner shook his head unconvinced.
“You may be right, of course, Caleb; I don’t say it is an impossibility. But it strikes me that your conclusions are rather far fetched. They are not reasonable.”