"Now, just for good measure, write your name across the top of
the newspaper, too," Driggs proposed. Curtis did so.

"You seem to attach a good deal of importance to this find," hinted
the policeman.

"Mebbe," assented Driggs indifferently. "Mebbe not. But you
and I will both know this paper and the chisel again, if we see
it, won't we?"

"We ought to," nodded the policeman. "But you don't consider
the matter as important enough, then, to interest the police?"

"I wouldn't think o' bothering the police force about a trifling
little matter like this," returned Driggs carelessly.

Just as soon, however, as the policeman had gone, Driggs darted
into his private office. There he took up the telephone receiver
and asked for Lawyer Ripley's residence number.

"Is Master Fred at home!" he inquired, when a servant of the Ripley
household answered the telephone. Fred was at home, the servant
replied, and then summoned Fred to the telephone.

"Well, who is it, and what is it?" asked Fred crossly.

"Hiram Driggs," responded the boat builder dryly. "That's 'who
is it.' As to 'what is it,' if you'll take a quick run over to
my office at the boatyard I'll tell you the rest of it."