For a full minute Captain Plum remained in stupefied bewilderment, silenced by the sudden and unexpected turn his adventure had taken.  Fascinated, he watched the skeleton fingers as they clinked the gold pieces.  What was the mysterious plot into which he had allowed himself to be drawn?  Why were a hundred guns and a ton and a half of powder and balls wanted by the Mormons of Beaver Island?  Instinctively he reached out and closed his hand over the counting fingers of the old man.  Their eyes met.  And there was a shrewd, half-understanding gleam in the black orbs that fixed Captain Plum in an unflinching challenge.  For a little space there was silence.  It was Captain Plum who broke it.

“Dad, I’m going to tell you for the third and last time that you’ve made a mistake.  I’ve got eight of the best rifles in America aboard my sloop out there.  But there’s a man for every gun.  And I’ve got something hidden away underdeck that would blow up St. James in half an hour.  And there is powder and ball for the whole outfit.  But that’s all.  I’ll sell you what I’ve got—­for a good price.  Beyond that you’ve got the wrong man!”

He settled back and blew a volume of smoke from his pipe.  For another half minute the old man continued to look at him, his eyes twinkling, and then he fell to counting again.

Captain Plum was not given over to the habit of cursing.  But now he jumped to his feet with an oath that jarred the table.  The old man chuckled.  The gold pieces clinked between his fingers.  Coolly he shoved two glittering piles alongside the candle-stick, tumbled the rest back into the leather bag, deliberately tied the end, and smiled up into the face of the exasperated captain.

“To be sure you’re not the man,” he said, nodding his head until his elf-locks danced around his face.  “Of course you’re not the man.  I know it—­ho, ho! you can wager that I know it!  A little ruse of mine, Captain Plum.  Pardonable—­excusable, eh?  I wanted to know if you were a liar.  I wanted to see if you were honest.”

[Illustration:  Captain Plum]

With a gasp of astonishment Captain Plum sank back into the chair.  His jaw dropped and his pipe was held fireless in his hand.

“The devil you say!”

“Oh, certainly, certainly, if you wish it,” chuckled the little man, in high humor.  “I would have visited your sloop to-day, Captain Plum, if you hadn’t come ashore so opportunely this morning.  Ho, ho, ho! a good joke, eh?  A mighty good joke!”

Captain Plum regained his composure by relighting his pipe.  He heard the chink of gold pieces and when he looked again the two piles of money were close to the edge of his side of the table.

“That’s for you, Captain Plum.  There’s just a thousand dollars in those two piles.”  There was tense earnestness now in the old man’s face and voice.  “I’ve imposed on you,” he continued, speaking as one who had suddenly thrown off a disguise.  “If it had been any other man it would have been the same.  I want help.  I want an honest man.  I want a man whom I can trust.  I will give you a thousand dollars if you will take a package back to your vessel with you and will promise to deliver it as quickly as you can.”