when I could not
be there my thoughts were full of the _Argos_ and her voyage.

Since I was giving my time to the firm without pay I took the liberty of
using the boy Jimmie to run errands for me. Journeying back and forth to
the wharf with messages and packages, he naturally worked up a feverish
interest in our cruise, even though he did not know the object of it.
When he came out point-blank one morning with a request to go with us as
cabin boy I was not surprised. I sympathized with Master Jimmie's
desire, but I very promptly put the lid on his hopes.

"Nothing doing, Mr. James A. Garfield Welch."

"You've gotter have a kid to run errands for youse, Mr. Sedgwick," he
pleaded.

"No use talking, Jimmie. You're not going."

"All right," he acquiesced meekly.

Too meekly, it occurred to me later.

CHAPTER VI

THE MISSING CORNER

Blythe and I had agreed that Bothwell would not let us get away without
first making an effort to get hold of the original map of Doubloon Spit.
He was nobody's fool, and there was no doubt but he had very soon
detected the trick his cousin had played upon him.

Since the chart was in a safety-deposit vault we felt pretty sure of
ourselves, for he would have to secure it between the time we took it
out and our arrival on the _Argos_, at best a spare half hour in the
middle of the day. But since the captain did not know what we had done
with the document, it was a good guess that he would have a try at
searching for it.

On the evening of the third day before we were due to sail, Blythe and I
took Miss Berry and her niece to the opera and afterward to a little
supper at a cozy French restaurant just round the corner from the
Chronicle Building.

It was well past midnight when we reached the hotel where the ladies
had their rooms. Miss Wallace had no sooner flung open the door than she
gave an exclamation of amazement.

The room had been fairly turned upside down. Drawers had been emptied,
searched, and their contents dumped down in one corner. Rugs had been
torn up. Even the upholstery of chairs and the lounge had been ripped.
The inner room was in the same condition. A thorough, systematic
examination had been made of every square inch of the apartment. It had
been carried so far that the linings of gowns had been cut away and the
trimming of hats plucked off.

"A burglar!" gasped Miss Berry.

"Let's give him a name. Will Captain Boris Bothwell do?" I asked of
Blythe.