Webb. He's not a university man, but he's educated. I
found him reading _Morte d'Arthur_."

"Ah!"--from Crawford.

"He became a steward because he could find nothing else to do at the
present time. He has been poor, and I dare say he has known the pinch
of poverty. You said only this morning, dad, that he was the most
attentive steward you had ever met on shipboard. Besides, there is a
case in point. Our butler was a steward before you engaged him, six
years ago."

Killigrew began to smile. "How much have you offered him as a salary?"

"Two hundred a month, to be paid out of the funds."

"Janet," said Crawford, "it's a good thing I'm married, or I'd apply
for the post myself."

"All right," agreed Killigrew; "a bargain's a bargain."

"A wager's a wager," thought Kitty.

"If you wake up some fine morning and find the funds gone . . ."

"Mother and I will attend to all checks, such as they are."

"Kitty, any day you say I'll take you into the firm as chief counsel.
But before I approve of your selection, I'd like to have a talk with
our friend Webb."

"He expects it. You are to see him on the main-deck at three this
afternoon."

"Molly, how long have we been married?"

"Thirty years, Daniel."

"How old is Kitty?"

"Mother!"

"Twenty-two," answered Mrs. Killigrew relentlessly.

"Well, I was going to say that I've learned more about the Killigrew
family in these four months of travel than in all those years together."

"Something more than ornaments," suggested Kitty dryly.

"Yes, indeed," replied her father amiably.

And when he returned to the boat-deck that afternoon for tea (which, by
the way, he never drank, being a thorough-going coffee merchant), he
said to Kitty: "You win on points. If Webb doesn't pan out, why, we
can discharge him. I'll take a chance at a man who isn't afraid to
look you squarely in the eyes."

At the precise time when Kitty retired and Thomas went aft for his good
night pipe--eleven o'clock at sea and nine in New York--Haggerty found
himself staring across the street at an old-fashioned house. Like the
fisherman who always returns to the spot where he lost the big one, the
detective felt himself drawn toward this particular dwelling. Crawford
did not live there any more; since his marriage he had converted it
into a private museum. It was filled with mummies and cartonnages,
ancient pottery and trinkets.

What a game it had been! A hundred thousand in p