“Well, what’s wanted?”

“We want to see Captain Carg,” called Arthur, in reply.

The head wagged sidewise.

“No one allowed aboard,” said the man.

“Here’s a letter to the captain, from Mr. Jones,” said Maud, exhibiting it.

The word seemed magical.  Immediately the head disappeared and an instant later the boarding ladder began to descend.  But the man, a sub-officer dressed in a neat uniform of white and gold, came quickly down the steps and held out his hand for the letter.

“Beg pardon,” said he, touching his cap to the ladies, “but the rules are very strict aboard the Arabella.  Will you please wait until I’ve taken this to the captain?  Thank you!”

Then he ran lightly up the steps and they remained seated in the launch until he returned.

“The captain begs you to come aboard,” he then said, speaking very respectfully but with a face that betrayed his wonder at the order of his superior.  Then he escorted them up the side to the deck, which was marvelously neat and attractive.  Some half a dozen sailors lounged here and there and these stared as wonderingly at the invasion of strangers as the subaltern had done.  But their guide did not pause longer than to see that they had all reached the deck safely, when he led them into a spacious cabin.

Here they faced Captain Carg, whom Patsy afterward declared was the tallest, thinnest, chilliest man she had ever encountered.  His hair was grizzled and hung low on his neck; his chin was very long and ended in a point; his nose was broad, with sensitive nostrils that marked every breath he drew.  As for his eyes, which instantly attracted attention, they were brown and gentle as a girl’s but had that retrospective expression that suggests far-away thoughts or an utter lack of interest in one’s surroundings.  They never looked at but through one.  The effect of Carg’s eyes was distinctly disconcerting.

The commander of the Arabella bowed with much dignity as his guests entered and with a sweep of his long arm he muttered in distant tones:  “Pray be seated.”  They obeyed.  The cabin was luxuriously furnished and there was no lack of comfortable chairs.

Somehow, despite the courteous words and attitude of Captain Carg, there was something about him that repelled confidence.  Already Maud and Patsy were wondering if such a man could be loyal and true.

“My young master,” he was saying, as he glanced at the letter he still held in his hand, “tells me that any questions you may ask I may answer as freely as I am permitted to.”

“What does that mean, sir?” Maud inquired, for the speech was quite ambiguous.

“That I await your queries, Miss,” with another perfunctory bow in her direction.

She hesitated, puzzled how to proceed.

“Mr. Jones is in a little trouble,” she finally began.  “He has been mistaken for some other man and—­they have put him in jail until he can be examined by the federal judge of this district.”