uspect anything?"

Come to find out, that was what we was all wonderin'. Course, Rupert
would be the first to develop a case of nerves. He reports that he's
come across groups of 'em whisperin' mysterious. Which reminds Auntie
that she'd noticed something of the kind, too. Even Mr. Ellins admits
that some of the men had acted sort of queer. And right while we're
holdin' our confab someone looks around and discovers that a sailor has
drifted up sleuthy almost within earshot.

"Hey, you!" calls out Old Hickory. "What are you doing there?"

"Just touching up the brasswork, sir," says he.

"Do your touching up some other time," orders Old Hickory. "Forward
with you!"

"Yes, sir," says the party in the white jumper, and sneaks off.

"Listening!" says Rupert. "That's what he was doing."

"Who knows what they may be plotting," says Auntie, "or what sort of
men they are? Sailors are apt to be such desperate characters. Why,
we might all be murdered in our beds!"

"As likely as not," says Rupert gloomy.

And you know how catchin' an idea like that is. Up to then we hadn't
taken much notice of the crew, no more'n you do of the help anywhere.
Oh, we'd got so we could tell the deck stewards apart. One was a
squint-eyed little Cockney that misplaced his aitches, but was always
on hand when you wanted anything. Another was a tall, lanky Swede who
was always "Yust coomin', sir." Then there was the bristly-haired
Hungarian we called Goulash. They'd all seemed harmless enough before;
but now we took to sizin' 'em up close. At dinner, when they was
servin' things, I glanced around and found all four of our
treasure-huntin' bunch followin' every move made. The usual table
chatter had stopped, too.

"Why!" says Mrs. Mumford, springin' that silly laugh of hers, "it must
be twenty minutes of."

Nobody says a word, for Ole and Goulash was servin' the fish course.
You could see they was fussed, too. It was a queer sort of
dinner-party. I could tell by the look of Old Hickory's eyes that
something was coming from him. And sure enough, after coffee had been
passed, he proceeds to tackle the situation square and solid, like he
always does. He waves off the stewards and sends for Lennon, the yacht
captain.

One of these chunky, square-jawed gents, Captain Lennon is, and about
as sociable as a traffic cop on duty. His job is runnin' the yacht,
and he sticks to it.

"Captain," says Mr. Ellins, "I want to know s