A Puzzling Situation
On hearing her son’s story, Mrs. Burton hastened to her stateroom,
entering with Guy through his room. But nothing of hers appeared to have
been stolen. However, she was certain that her steamer trunk had been
opened, although she found it locked. The contents were not in the order
she had left them. Then Guy tried the door of his mother’s room, but it
also was locked.
“I’m sure the fellow was Watson, or Lantry,” Guy declared after they had
convinced themselves that nothing had been stolen.
“Who are Watson and Lantry?” his mother inquired.
“I forgot you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you what Mr. Gunseyt told me
about one of the passengers. That passenger calls himself Watson, but
Mr. Gunseyt says his name is Lantry and he used to be a fog pirate.”
“What is a fog pirate?”
Guy told his mother all that the “radio passenger” had told him in this
relation and then added:
“I’m certain that Watson, or Lantry, is the man who entered our rooms. I
didn’t get a good look at his face, but I know his form so well I don’t
believe I could be mistaken.”
Guy decided that a complaint ought to be made for the protection of the
other passengers, as well as themselves; so he sought out the second
mate and related the affair to him. The officer listened attentively,
asked several questions, and then assured the boy that the matter would
be looked into.
An hour later Guy found Mr. Gunseyt in a smoking room and told him what
had occurred. The latter was not easily surprised but he showed
considerable interest in this affair.
“Didn’t you lock your door when you left your stateroom?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Guy.
“Then how did he get in?”
“That’s what puzzles me. He must ’ave unlocked the door; but how did he
do it? Do you think he bribed the steward who takes care of the room?”
“It isn’t likely,” said Gunseyt thoughtfully. “And I don’t see how he
could have picked the lock. The locks on these stateroom doors are no
common ones. Have you any idea who the fellow was?”
In telling his story, Guy had omitted all reference to Watson. He could
not take oath as to the identity of the intruder, although morally
certain of his recognition, and he did not wish to do the man an
injustice by erroneously advertising him. He had told the second mate
his suspicion, but that was to aid the ship’s officers in protecting the
other passengers from similar, and perhaps more serious, visits.
However, he decided that, because of the seemingly well-founded warning
received from Mr. Gunseyt, the latter was entitled to all the
information he could give.
“I believe he’s the man you warned me about the other day,” replied Guy.
Gunseyt looked more interested.
“Who?—Lantry?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not surprised. I told you what kind of a fellow he was, didn’t I?
But I didn’t suppose he’d commit common burglary. I thought he was too
brainy a villain for that.”
“But you said he was a fog pirate.”
“To be sure. That’s a far more intellectual occupation than burglary.”
“Why?”
“Because its safer. The most intellectual criminals in the world are the
ones who commit crimes in the safest manner. But, say! I’ve got an
idea.”
“Yes?”
“Did your mother and you each have a key to your staterooms?”
“Yes.”
“Have you both got them now?”
“I have mine.”
“How about your mother?”
“We never thought of that. I’ll go and find out.”
Guy found his mother and put the question to her. She thought rapidly a
few moments, then replied:
“No, I’m afraid I’ve lost it. Haven’t you got it?”
“No,” the boy answered. “When did you have it last?”
“Just before luncheon, I think. I left my key in the door on the
outside, and we came out through your room.”
“Then somebody stole your key. Of course, it was Watson. But maybe he
left it in the lock—I didn’t notice—I’ll go and see.”
Guy went to his mother’s room and found the key in the lock. Then he
hurried back and reported his discovery. Soon afterward he met Gunseyt
again and told him the latest development of the key mystery.
“That explains the whole affair,” declared the man with the goatee.
“Now, you see, my advice to look out for Watson was good advice, wasn’t
it?”
“Yes, it was,” admitted the boy.
“Of course. I’m not in the habit of handing out poor advice. I’d rather
keep my mouth shut. You’re sure you didn’t lose anything?”
“Oh, there’s nothing missing, so far as we could discover.”
“What all did he get into?”
“Everything, it seemed. I suppose he was looking for money and didn’t
care for anything else?”
“Turned everything inside out and opened every bundle, box, and package
in the room, eh?”
“Pretty near,” said the boy, moved to the interest of detail by this
suggestion. “It seemed he saw me coming and hurried away without putting
things back as he found them. There was a box in my trunk, wrapped in
paper. He took the paper off and tucked it under some of the other
things when he found he had to leave in a hurry, I suppose.”
“What was in the box?” asked Gunseyt, leaning back lazily on the sofa.
“A pair of electric shoes I’m taking to New York as a present to a man
from a friend of his in London. They’re supposed to cure rheumatism.”
“It would be an extraordinary thief who’d steal anything of that sort,”
Gunseyt remarked.
“Yes, I guess he wasn’t much interested when he saw what was in the box.
He could hardly be expected to know they were wireless shoes!”
“Wireless shoes!” exclaimed the man. “That’s a good one. I thought you
called them electric shoes.”
“I did,” answered the boy. “I used that term because it might explain
itself. Wireless slipped off my tongue next in an unguarded moment. I
suppose I’ll have to give you a lecture now on perpetual electricity in
order to make myself clear.”
Guy now proceeded to explain the wireless theory of the rheumatic cure
shoes, as it had been explained to him by Smithers. This he felt was no
violation of confidence, as he had gathered from the Bond street jeweler
that the idea could not be successfully stolen without a careful
examination of the inclosed mechanism of the “radio footgear.”
“That’s a great idea if it’ll work,” declared Gunseyt. “And even if it
doesn’t work it’s interesting enough to be amusing. I’m going to come to
your room and have a look at them before we get to New York if you don’t
mind.”
“Come any time I’m in,” was Guy’s invitation as he walked away.
“I’ll be in tonight,” the man called out after him.
“All right; I’ll look for you,” returned the boy hospitably.
True to his promise, Gunseyt called at Guy’s stateroom in the evening.
The latter produced the “wireless shoes” and the visitor examined them
with apparently deep interest. Mrs. Burton was present and expressed a
good deal of amusement over “such nonsense.” Gunseyt however, endeavored
gently to argue her into a more serious view of the subject.
In the midst of this discussion came a knock on the door, followed by
remarkable actions on the part of Gunseyt. With rapid, nervous
movements, he jammed the shoes back into the box and laid it on a table
in a remote corner of the room.
Guy was astonished. Mrs. Burton also observed the act and wondered at
it. The boy opened the door.
The new caller was the large-featured man, Watson or Lantry. His
appearance furnished a new surprise for Mrs. Burton and her son, for
they had naturally presumed that he would be inclined to avoid them
rather than seek their company after recent doings.
“Excuse me,” began the alleged “fog pirate,” “May I come in?”
Watson, alias Lantry, or vice versa took the want of a denial for a
permission and entered. Guy’s astonishment had momentarily deprived him
of the power of speech.
“I’ll explain my call in a few words,” announced the newcomer in tones
of no gentleness. “The captain says you’ve accused me of entering this
room in your absence. I’m a good deal put out with this charge and come
here to learn why you made it.”
The boy’s answer came with confusion.
“Well, I—I was certain it was you,” he replied. “The man I saw come out
of mother’s room looked just like you.”
“Is that your only reason for thinking it was me?”
“Yes—no! I’m not at liberty to give you any other reason.”
“Not at liberty! That’s funny. Do you realize the seriousness of making
such a charge without being able to prove it? I thought better of you,
Burton, than that. I refer you to the captain of this vessel, who knows
me and will assure you that I am all right.”
“If my son has made a mistake, he will make any amends in his power,”
interposed Mrs. Burton. “It was an unfortunate affair and he became
excited.”
“Why didn’t the captain let us know I’d made a mistake when he heard my
complaint?” asked Guy.
“I don’t know. Who did you complain to?”
“The second mate.”
“He told the captain, I suppose. You’ll hear from headquarters all
right. Have you said anything to anybody but the second mate?”
“Only the gentleman here, Mr. Gunseyt.”
“I hope, sir, you don’t attach any credence to this boy’s mistake,” said
Watson, turning to the first visitor.
“I don’t attach any credence to any mistake,” replied the other smartly.
“This is no affair of mine, anyway, and I usually keep my mouth shut
about other people’s business. Don’t let me give you any uneasiness.”
“You misunderstood me, sir,” replied Watson haughtily. “I’m not in the
least uneasy, rest assured of that.”
“I’ll see the captain in the morning and if he tells me I’ve made a
mistake, I’ll come and apologize to you,” Guy volunteered. “That’s fair,
isn’t it?”
“Quite fair. With that understanding, I’ll bid you goodnight.”
Watson went out and closed the door, and Guy turned to the first
visitor, saying:
“It must have been a mistake. He’s surely all right.”
“You’d ’ave sworn he was the man that entered your room, wouldn’t you?”
asked Gunseyt.
“Almost. I was about as sure of it as I could be, I thought.”
“Then don’t you let him buffalo you. He’s as smooth and clever as they
make ’em. He’s a crook dyed in the wool, and I know it. But you’re not
at liberty to repeat this, because I can’t prove it any more than you
can prove that he entered your stateroom while you were out. You know
now what it means to know something without being able to back it up
with evidence. But it’s nothing to me. I’m only telling you this to put
you on your guard.”