The Water-Pipe

Dick sat down and knitted his brows as he studied his companion. Don
Sebastian was a Peninsular Spaniard and in consequence of a finer type
than the majority of the inhabitants of Santa Brigida. Dick, who thought
he could confide in him, needed help, but the matter was delicate. In the
meantime, the other waited with a smile that implied that he guessed his
thoughts, until Dick, leaning forward with sudden resolution, picked up
the telegram, which was written in cipher.

"This is probably a warning to somebody that the vessel will not call at
the ports in the advertised order," he said.

"I imagine so. You guessed the captain's plan from what you heard outside
the room?"

"Not altogether, but it gave me a hint. It looks as if you recognized me
when I was standing near the lifeboat."

"I did," said Don Sebastian meaningly. "I think I showed my confidence in
you."

Dick nodded, because it was plain that the other had enabled him to go
away without being questioned.

"Very well; I'll tell you what I know," he said, and related how he had
found the man with the flute loitering about the purser's door. As he
finished, Don Sebastian got up.

"You made one mistake; you should have given your note to an Englishman
and not a young Creole lad. However, we must see if the steamer can be
stopped."