haste to answer, though a look of guilty alarm crept into his face. All
of the workmen had ceased their toil, and stood looking on at this
unusual scene.

"You say you weren't here last night?" demanded Mr. Farnum, sternly.
"And you didn't use any false key to get into this shed?"

"Of course I didn't," retorted the ex-foreman, defiantly. "You wrote a
note to me that, if I'd come around here this morning, I'd hear of a job.
I didn't come here to be insulted."

"The job I mentioned in my note," rejoined Mr. Farnum, with a meaning
smile, "is over at the penitentiary. Owen, you did come here last night.
You scaled the fence at the west side, crossed the yard, opened the door
of this building with this key--"

Here the yard's owner held out the false key, that all might see it.

"--and," finished Mr. Farnum, "you came in here and went to work to
damage a sea-valve forward on this craft. The valve shows, this morning,
very plain traces of having been tampered with."

Josh Owen was summoning all his courage, all his craft. Instead of
looking frightened, he glared boldly at his accuser.

"Who says I did such a thing?" he demanded, hotly.

"Benson and Hastings saw you at your rascally work, my man."

"Humph!" snorted the ex-foreman. "Who? Those boys?"