"You won't tell me?"

"No."

"Did you find a--er--a letter?"

"Perhaps I did."

"I want you to give it up."

"I didn't say I found it."

"But you did find it. It is my property and you must give it to me."

To this Randy was silent.

"Do you hear me?"

"I am not deaf, Mr. Polk."

"I know what you want to do!" hissed the purser. "You want to get me
into trouble. But I'll not let you do it."

"Maybe you'll get yourself into trouble."

"Bah! I am not afraid of a boy, but----" He paused and his manner
changed. "See here, Thompson, you are a poor boy, aren't you?"

"I admit it."

"Well, some extra money will come in handy, won't it?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Polk?"

"I'll give you--er--five dollars for that letter."

"I haven't said that I had it yet."

"But I know you have it. Come, what do you say?"

"I say, I am going about my business," answered Randy, and started for
the doorway.

"Not yet!" cried the purser, wrathfully, and flung him back into a
corner. "You'll settle with me first, even if I have to call a police
officer!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

OUT OF A TIGHT CORNER

Randy was surprised and dazed by the treatment he received at the hands
of the enraged purser and for the moment knew not what to do. He rose
slowly to his feet.

"Don't you do that again!" he cried, a dangerous glitter coming into
his eyes.

"I will do it--unless you give up that letter."

"You shall never have the letter, Peter Polk."

"Ha! so you admit at last that you have it!"

"I do."

"Then hand it over or I will call an officer and have you locked up."

"Call the officer, if you dare," and our hero shrugged his shoulders.

"You stole more than the clothing and the letter," went on the purser,
craftily. "You took fifty dollars in money."

"I took absolutely nothing, and you know it."

"Then you want me to call in the officer?"

"Do as you please," said Randy, recklessly.

Peter Polk was nonplused. He did not want to call an officer. Yet he
wanted to get the precious letter.

"You will save yourself a lot of trouble by giving up that letter,
Thompson," he said, in a more subdued tone.

"Well, I don't intend to give it up."

"If I have you arrested I can send you to state's prison for five or
ten years."

"I will risk it."

"What do you intend to do with that letter?" said the purser.

"That is my affair."

"Going to Mr. Shalley, eh?"

"Perhaps."

"It won't do you any good."

Again