“Yes,” said I, “you are right; he would change it.  And anyway, I don’t believe it was his name at all; I believe he took it from a corner grocery beside Bellairs’s.”

“As like as not,” said Jim, still standing on the sidewalk with contracted brows.

“Well, what shall we do next?” I asked.

“The natural thing would be to rush the schooner,” he replied.  “But I don’t know.  I telephoned the captain to go at it head down and heels in air; he answered like a little man; and I guess he’s getting around.  I believe, Loudon, we’ll give Trent a chance.  Trent was in it; he was in it up to the neck; even if he couldn’t buy, he could give us the straight tip.”

“I think so, too,” said I.  “Where shall we find him?”

“British consulate, of course,” said Jim.  “And that’s another reason for taking him first.  We can hustle that schooner up all evening; but when the consulate’s shut, it’s shut.”

At the consulate, we learned that Captain Trent had alighted (such is I believe the classic phrase) at the What Cheer House.  To that large and unaristocratic hostelry we drove, and addressed ourselves to a large clerk, who was chewing a toothpick and looking straight before him.

“Captain Jacob Trent?”

“Gone,” said the clerk.

“Where has he gone?” asked Pinkerton.

“Cain’t say,” said the clerk.

“When did he go?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” said the clerk, and with the simplicity of a monarch offered us the spectacle of his broad back.

What might have happened next I dread to picture, for Pinkerton’s excitement had been growing steadily, and now burned dangerously high; but we were spared extremities by the intervention of a second clerk.

“Why!  Mr. Dodd!” he exclaimed, running forward to the counter.  “Glad to see you, sir!  Can I do anything in your way?”

How virtuous actions blossom!  Here was a young man to whose pleased ears I had rehearsed Just before the battle, mother, at some weekly picnic; and now, in that tense moment of my life, he came (from the machine) to be my helper.

“Captain Trent, of the wreck?  O yes, Mr. Dodd; he left about twelve; he and another of the men.  The Kanaka went earlier by the City of Pekin; I know that; I remember expressing his chest.  Captain Trent?  I’ll inquire, Mr. Dodd.  Yes, they were all here.  Here are the names on the register; perhaps you would care to look at them while I go and see about the baggage?”

I drew the book toward me, and stood looking at the four names all written in the same hand, rather a big and rather a bad one:  Trent, Brown, Hardy, and (instead of Ah Sing) Jos.  Amalu.

“Pinkerton,” said I, suddenly, “have you that Occidental in your pocket?”

“Never left me,” said Pinkerton, producing the paper.

I turned to the account of the wreck.  “Here,” said I; “here’s the name.  ‘Elias Goddedaal, mate.’  Why do we never come across Elias Goddedaal?”