both trouble and inconvenience, Mr. Crocker, if
you give him up, sir."

What did the man mean? Why in the name of the law didn't he make a
move? I was conscious that my client was fumbling in his clothes for the
wallet; that he had muttered an invitation for the chief to go inside.
McCann smoked uneasily.

"I don't want to search the boat, sir."

At these words we all turned with one accord towards the cabin. I felt
Farrar gripping my arm tightly from behind.

The Celebrity had disappeared!

It was Mr. Cooke who spoke.

"Search the boat!" he said, something between a laugh and a cry.

"Yes, sir," the chief repeated firmly. "It's sorry I am to do it, with
Mr. Crocker here, too."

I have always maintained that nature had endowed my client with rare
gifts; and the ease with which he now assumed a part thus unexpectedly
thrust upon him, as well as the assurance with which he carried it out,
goes far to prove it.

"If there's anything in your line aboard, chief," he said blandly, "help
yourself!"

Some of us laughed. I thought things a little too close to be funny.
Since the Celebrity had lost his nerve and betaken himself to the place
of concealment Mr. Cooke had prepared for him, the whole composition of
the affair was changed. Before, if McCann had arrested the ostensible
Mr. Allen, my word, added to fifty dollars from my client, would
probably have been sufficient. Should he be found now, no district
attorney on the face of the earth could induce the chief to believe that
he was any other than the real criminal; nor would any bribe be large
enough to compensate McCann for the consequences of losing so important
a prisoner. There was nothing now but to carry it off with a high hand.
McCann got up.

"Be your lave, Mr. Crocker," he said.

"Never you mind me, McCann," I replied, "but you do what is right."

With that he began his search. It might have been ludicrous if I had
had any desire to laugh, for the chief wore the gingerly air of a man
looking for a rattlesnake which has to be got somehow. And my client
assisted at the inspection with all the graces of a dancing-master.
McCann poked into the forward lockers where we kept the
stores,--dropping the iron lid within an inch of his toe,--and the
clothing-lockers and the sail-lockers. He reached under the bunks, and
drew out his hand again quickly, as though he expected to be bitten.
And at last he stood by the trap with the hole in it, under which the
C