“Do you mean to say that we shall have to remain here?” demanded Gasper Lee of the officer.

“Unless you can furnish security for your appearance against this Flecker. You must remember, you are all strangers to me, and he may be as innocent as you are—in which case I should get myself into trouble if I allowed you to get away.”

“This is an outrage!” stormed the planter. “I am a Southern gentleman, sir.”

“Perhaps you know somebody in Greensboro who might go security for you,” suggested the officer.

The planter stroked his beard.

“I cannot recall anybody that I know——” he began. “But wait. Does Captain Farrand still reside here?”

“You mean old Colonel Farrand’s nephew?”

“Yes.”

“He does.”

“Then kindly send for him at once.”

“I will do so, Mr. Lee.”

Without delay a messenger was sent out, and in less than half an hour he returned with a pleasant-looking business man of thirty-five or forty.

“Why, my dear Mr. Lee, what does this mean?” demanded the newcomer, as he shook hands.

“It means that I am in a mess, and I need you to get me out of it,” answered the planter.

“What is the trouble?”

“A rascal tried to swindle me on the train from New York. This young man came to my assistance. Now, we have the rascal locked up, but I must remain as a witness, unless I can get somebody to go my security.”

“That is easy.” Captain Farrand turned to the police officer. “What sort of a bond do you want, sir?”

“A thousand dollars, captain.”

“Very well; make it out and I will sign it. I know Mr. Lee very well.”

“I wish I could find somebody to go on my bond,” put in Frank.

The planter looked at him squarely, and then at Captain Farrand.

“Captain, do me an additional favor,” he said.

“Name it, Mr. Lee.”

“Go on a bond for this young man. I know he is honest; his face shows it. I will be personally responsible to you for the amount.”

“Very well,” answered Captain Farrand.

A few minutes later the necessary papers were made out and signed, and then Frank and the planter were told they could go where they pleased for the next few days.

“I shall telegraph to Mr. Sinclair Basswood,” said our hero.

He happened to remember the ex-mayor’s home address, and sent the telegram without delay. It was rushed through, and in less than two hours the answer came back.

“Hold Flecker. Will come on at once and make an example of him.

“Sinclair Basswood.”

“That is just like him,” thought our hero, and took the telegram to the police station.

“Evidently, Mr. Basswood is going to have the fellow punished,” said the officer, with a smile.

“Don’t you think he deserves it?”

“He assuredly does—if he is guilty.”

Feeling that he could safely leave the case in the hands of the ex-mayor and Mr. Lee, Frank hurried to the railroad station and found he could get a train for Charleston early in the evening. This would bring him to his destination about midnight, and he telegraphed to his brother, Mark, to meet him.

It was a hot night, and Frank was glad when the train came along and he could sit by the open window and catch the breeze. The train made fast time, as it sped along past plantation after plantation, and across numerous brooks and rivers.

“I am certainly having my share of adventures,” thought the young book agent. “Who would have dreamed of meeting Gabe Flecker on this trip?”

He had had supper with Mr. Lee, who had insisted upon paying for a very elaborate meal, and by nine o’clock he fell into a doze, from which he did not awaken until the train rolled into the commodious station at Charleston.

“All out for Charleston!” was the cry, and gathering up his dress-suit case, he followed the crowd out on the station platform and then into the station itself.

“Frank!” called a joyful voice presently, and up rushed his big brother, Mark, as brown as a berry from his long sea trip.

“Mark!” returned our hero, and the brothers shook hands warmly.

“My! but it does a fellow’s eyes good to look at you,” went on Mark.

“I can say as much,” answered Frank, with a smile. “But tell me, have you learned anything new about Jabez Garrison, Mark?” he continued, anxiously.

“Nothing much. But I am pretty sure he is still at the Planters’ House. But I haven’t seen that Flecker or Becker again.”

“And you won’t—for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is in jail,” answered the young book agent, and related some of the particulars.

“And that is what delayed you. I thought it was strange you didn’t come on that other train. What do you propose to do?”

“Hunt up this Jabez Garrison without delay, and if he is really the man we want, have him arrested on the spot.”

“All right, Frank; I’ll do whatever you say. You know more about this case than I do.”

“We must find an officer first.”

“There is one around this depot.”

“Let us go to headquarters, Mark. We want an experienced man—one who will not make a mess of this matter. This Jabez Garrison must be a very slick individual with whom to deal.”

They were directed to the station, and Frank engaged a cab to take them to the place.

“Are all the folks well at home?” questioned Mark, on the way.

“As well as can be expected, Mark. Father’s foot is not as strong as it might be. How did you like your trip?”

“Oh, it was fine, Frank. But let me tell you that a life on shipboard is no picnic.”

“I believe you.”

“If a boy wants to run away to sea, let him do it. One good long trip on the ocean will cure him of his foolishness.”

“What do you expect to do next, Mark?”

“Go into business—if I can get in. You seem to be making a success of selling books.”

“Yes. Perhaps you can sell books, too.”

“Well, I could try it. I used to think I’d take hold of the flour and feed business with father. But now he has given that up, so I’ll have to try something else.”

“I’ll put you in the way of selling books, and you can try your luck at it,” answered Frank.

“Perhaps I could sell some among the shipping people. They like to do business with somebody who has followed the sea.”

“That is certainly an idea. You might sell them books relating to the ocean, and works on navigation, and the like—and also maps. It is certainly a wide field,” continued our hero.

The station house was soon reached, and leaving the cabman waiting for them, Frank and Mark went inside, to tell their tale, and get what assistance they could.