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"That is a trick, I tell you." He raised his voice: "Who are you?" he called out. "Answer me truthfully, or I'll fire on you!" This threat alarmed the Rover boys, for they saw that Merrick was in earnest. "I guess our cake is dough," muttered Tom. "Wait, I think I can scare him back yet," said Dick. "Let me do the talking." "I say, who are you?" repeated Merrick.
"To be strictly honest, Beth, we were not trapped at all; we were the victims of circumstances. When I remember how quick-witted and alert that manager was, to catch us unawares and so add to the value of his picture, I can quite forgive the fellow his audacity." "It wasn't audacity so much as downright impudence!" persisted Beth. "I quite agree with you," said Mr. Merrick.
Here's the programme, my dear girls: One of you must go by first train to Messina and cable Isham, Marvin & Co. to deposit with the New York correspondents of the Banca Commerciale Italiana fifty thousand dollars, and have instructions cabled to the Messina branch of that bank to pay the sum to the written order of John Merrick. This should all be accomplished within twenty-four hours.
"It it's all a mis mistake! I wasn't going to poi poison anybody." "Maybe he vos poison does sandwiches, doo," suggested Hans. "I mean dose dot made Bahama Pill sick." "Like as not he did," growled the old tar. "He's a bad one, he is!" And he shook the deck hand as a dog shakes a rat. "He is surely in league with Sid Merrick," said Anderson Rover. He faced Wait Wingate sternly.
"Tell me all about it, my dear!" said Mr. Merrick, earnestly, for whatever affected his beloved nieces was of prime importance to him. "We were taking our morning stroll along the streets," began Patsy, "when on turning a corner we came upon a crowd of people who seemed to be greatly excited. Most of them were workmen in flannel shirts, their sleeves rolled up, their hands grimy with toil.
Before sailing it was learned that some rivals were also after the treasure. One of these was a sharper named Sid Merrick, who had on several occasions tried to get the best of the Rovers and failed. With Merrick was Tad Sobber, his nephew, a youth who at Putnam Hall had been a bitter foe to Dick, Tom and Sam.
Merrick went on in his austere voice, "the very day before my late son left London. But, of course, you will have observed it was never executed." And in point of fact Herminia now listlessly noted that it lacked Alan's signature. "That makes it, I need hardly say, of no legal value," the father went on, with frigid calm.
Lawyer Watson was not present on this occasion, and as soon as Patsy had left her Miss Merrick tore off the signatures and burned them, wrote "void" in bold letters across the face of the paper, and then, it being rendered of no value, she enclosed it in a large yellow envelope, sealed it, and that evening handed the envelope to Mr.
"About sixty-six," he repeated, vacantly, trying to decide if this was another chance shot. "Yes; about sixty-six mill hands." The cat was out of the bag now. Hopkins realized that Merrick had some knowledge or at least suspicion of this plot.
His face gave the lie direct to his speech, and his little manoeuvre for keeping the earnest-money failed ignobly. The swift brown stream carried us at full speed. "Captain Merrick" pointed out sundry short cuts, but my brain now refused to admit as truth a word coming from a Mpongwe.
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