CHAPTER I
I
A little, knuckly man bounded into Clement Seadon’s cabin with an india-rubber violence. He snapped the door closed, and faced the startled young man.
“You’re Clement Seadon,” he cried; “I’m Hartley Hard.”
The young man stopped unpacking.
“I don’t think I know you,” he said.
“You needn’t think. You don’t know. I’m a complete stranger to you—in the flesh. But don’t talk. I haven’t much time.”
Clement glanced at the umbrella and obvious shore rig of the bounding little man.
“In fact,” he said, in the other’s manner, “you have no time at all. ‘All ashore’ was called two minutes ago.”
“Oh, don’t talk,” panted the little man. “This thing is terribly important. I mustn’t lose a moment telling you. You know Heloise Reys?”