“Now then, gentlemen,” said Mr. Meyer, “I believe we can proceed to pizness up to a certain point—perhaps further. Mr. Thompson, you have the affidavit of Captain Bryce?”

“I have,” said the attorney, producing a document which Mr. Meyer glanced at and handed back.

“And in this statement, captain, he said, “you have sworn that der voyage was uneventful up to der moment of der wreck—that is,” be added, with an oily smile, as be noticed the paling of the captain’s face “that nothing occurred to make der Titan less seaworthy or manageable?”

“That is what I swore to,” said the captain, with a little sigh.

“You are part owner, are you not, Captain Bryce?”

“I own five shares of the company’s stock.”

“I have examined der charter and der company lists,” said Mr. Meyer; “each boat of der company is, so far as assessments and dividends are concerned, a separate company. I find you are listed as owning two sixty-seconds of der Titan stock. This makes you, under der law, part owner of der Titan, and responsible as such.”

“What do you mean, sir, by that word responsible?” said Captain Bryce, quicky.

For answer, Mr. Meyer elevated his black eyebrows, assumed an attitude of listening, looked at his watch and went to the door, which, as he opened, admitted the sound of carriage wheels.

“In here,” he called to his clerks, then faced the captain.

“What do I mean, Captain Bryce?” he thundered. “I mean that you have concealed in your sworn statement all reference to der fact that you collided with and sunk the ship Royal Age on der night before the wreck of your own ship.”

“Who says so—how do you know it?” blustered the captain. “You have only that bulletin statement of the man Rowland—an irresponsible drunkard.”