disturbed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Tim and departed.

Captain Elisha regarded his friend with some dismay.

"Say!" he exclaimed, "this _must_ be serious, if it takes the skipper
and both mates to handle it."

Sylvester did not smile. "It is," he answered. "Come."

He led the way into the room opening from the rear of his own. It was
a large apartment with a long table in the center. Mr. Kuhn, brisk and
business-like, was already there. He shook hands with his client. As he
did so, Graves, dignified and precise as ever, entered, carrying a small
portfolio filled with papers.

"Mornin', Mr. Graves," said the captain; "glad to see you, even under
such distressin' circumstances, as the undertaker said to the sick man.
Feelin' all right again, I hope. No more colds or nothin' like that?"

"No. Thank you. I am quite well, at present."

"That's hearty. If you and me don't do any more buggy ridin' in Cape
Cod typhoons, we'll last a spell yet, hey? What you got there, the death
warrant?" referring to the portfolio and its contents.

Mr. Graves evidently did not consider this flippancy worth a reply, for
he made none.

"Sit down, gentlemen," said Sylvester.

The four took chairs at the table. Graves untied and opened the
portfolio. Captain Elisha looked at his solemn companions, and his lips
twitched.

"You'll excuse me," he observed, "but I feel as if I was goin' to
be tried for piracy on the high seas. Has the court any objection to
tobacco smoke? I'm puttin' the emphasis strong on the 'tobacco,'" he
added, "because this is a cigar you give me yourself, Mr. Sylvester,
last time I was down here."

"No, indeed," replied the senior partner. "Smoke, if you wish. No one
here has any objection, unless it may be Graves."

"Oh, Mr. Graves ain't. He and I fired up together that night we fust
met. Hot smoke tasted grateful after all the cold water we'd had poured
onto us in that storm. Graves is all right. He's a sportin' character,
like myself. Maybe he'll jine us. Got another cigar in my pocket."

But the invitation was declined. The "sporting character" might deign
to relax amid proper and fitting surroundings, but not in the sacred
precincts of his office. So the captain smoked alone.

"Well," he observed, after a few preliminary puffs, "go on! Don't keep
me in suspenders, as the feller said. Where did the lightnin' strike,
and what's the damage?"

Sylvester took a card from his pocket and referred