Earl Derr Biggers

“ Bill answered sadly.
“What?” Batchelor stood up. “Well, if you've run out of clews, then the skies are dark indeed. Something tells me I'll never see my dollar again. You may be a good newspaper man, my boy, but as a detective—well—oh, what's the use? I'm going to bed. Good night.”
Sally and Bill followed him outside. In a shadowy spot on the deck they paused.
“Oh, Bill, what are we going to do now?” the girl sighed.
“Well, I have one—one little clew. But it's so silly I didn't have the nerve to tell him about it. Just a little coil of wire I found in Mikklesen's cabin.” ”

“ Honest men don't go about with trick shirts. I know your reputation in the Orient. How came that dollar where it was?”
“I'm afraid I've been done, sir,” said Mikklesen suavely, putting on his coat.
“Done? How so?”
“Under the circumstances, I can't do better than tell you the truth. If you will pause to consider, there has been no real theft. In each case, nothing but substitution—one dollar for another. The value of your lucky piece is purely sentimental. Remember that, if you will.”
“Go on,” said Batchelor.
“I went to your cabin last night to get that dollar. I'm a bit of a jokester myself. ”

“ I tell you, Sally, it's all over now. As far as Father goes, I'm out.”
“Don't give up,” she urged. “Haven't you any more clews?”
“Well,” he replied slowly, “a little one.”
“I knew it!” she cried. “What is it, Bill?”
“Oh, nothing much. But I happened to pick up that dollar we found on Mikklesen, and——”
Jim Batchelor and Henry Frost emerged from the main saloon and came up.
“Ah,” said Frost sarcastically, “the young detective.”
“Don't kid him, Henry,” said Batchelor. “The boy's got a future. He can dig up more dollars than John D. Rockefeller.”
“Mr. Batchelor, I certainly regret——” Bill began. ”