Earl Derr Biggers

“ Mikklesen indicated his luggage to a sailor and hastily descended the ladder. The launch putt-putted away. O'Meara moved to the rail and shook a heavy fist.
“I'll get you,” he cried, “you low-down crook!”
Mikklesen stood in the stern of the launch and waved a jaunty farewell. He was off in search of new fields and better luck.
“Oh, Mr. Batchelor,” purred Mrs. Keith, “it's a woman's privilege to change her mind, you know. If you have no objection I'll stay with the party.”
“Oh, no, you won't!” said Batchelor. “I've got my dollar back and I intend to hang on to it.” ”

“ You may as well—go along.”
“Thanks, awfully,” said Mikklesen. “It's been a frightfully jolly cruise, and all that.” He glanced at O'Meara, and his smile faded. “I'm going to ask one last favor, if I may.”
“Well, you've got your nerve,” Batchelor said. “What is it?”
“Will you be so good as to send me ashore alone, and let the launch return for—these others?”
The owner of the Francesca was in high good humor. He laughed.
“Of course I will,” he replied. “I can't say I blame you either. It isn't always safe for birds of a feather to flock together. Get into the launch. ”

“ The first dollar I ever earned. Little secret mark and all. My boy—my boy, I take back all I said.”
Bill glanced at Sally; her eyes were shining. He handed the watch case back to Mikklesen.
“When you took out the works,” he said, “you shouldn't have let the mainspring get away from you. Lively little things, mainsprings. Elusive, what?”
“I fancy so.” Mikklesen, still smiling, still nonchalant, restored the watch to his pocket. “Mr. Batchelor, I'll toddle along. There's been no actual theft.”
“Who says there hasn't?”
O'Meara, purple with rage, was on his feet. ”