“You mean, Unk....”

“That my letter has been stolen.”

CHAPTER III PIZELLA, THE INSCRUTABLE

PIZELLA, THE INSCRUTABLE

Before Hal had recovered from his astonishment, there burst into the cabin, the sailor, who was leading a cringing, ratlike little man. Behind them came the captain, wringing his hands excitedly and talking in vociferous Portuguese.

“Many pardons, Señors!” said he, bowing apologetically. “This half-caste, Pizella—he come up from steerage to rob you—yes?”

“I’ve been robbed of something important,” Denis Keen answered and explained in Spanish the importance of his letter.

The captain was irate with the half-caste, Pizella, and with the aid of the sailor proceeded to search him most thoroughly. But this availed them nothing.

“Nothing?” Hal asked. He glanced at the sailor. “You sure this is the bird I told you to beat it after?”

“Most certain, Señor,” the sailor assured him. “I caught him half-way down the stairway.”

“Hmph,” said Denis Keen, “question him, then.”

A few more minutes ensued in which the captain and the sailor took turns at arguing with the man in an unintelligible patois. But nothing came of this either, for the half-caste protested that he was entirely innocent.

“Then what can we do?” the captain beseeched Denis Keen. “We find nothing stolen on Pizella, the young Señor Hal does not know sure that it was he in the cabin—he admits it very truly when he asks the sailor was he sure.”

“That is very true, Captain,” said Denis Keen. “My nephew could not swear to it that this man was the intruder, can you, Hal?”

Hal could not. A fair-sized group of upper deck passengers had gathered about their cabin door listening to the singular conversation. At the head of them stood Señor Carlo Goncalves in a state of partial dishabille and listening attentively.

When Denis Keen had dismissed the wretched Pizella because of lack of evidence, the dapper Brazilian came forward twisting his little waxed moustache and smiling.

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