I had managed very artfully to keep
Captain Branscome entirely out of the story, but twice under
examination I was forced to mention him--and each time, curiously
enough, in answer to a question of Miss Belcher's.
"You are sure this Captain Coffin showed the chart to no one but
yourself?" she asked.
"I am pretty sure, ma'am."
"There was always a tale about Falmouth that Cap'n Danny had struck a
buried treasure," said Mr. Goodfellow. "'Twas a joke in the publics,
and with the street boys; but I never heard tell till now that any
one took it serious."
"He was learning navigation," mused Miss Belcher. "What was the name
of his teacher?"
"A Captain Branscome, ma'am. He's a teacher at Stimcoe's."
"Lives in the house, does he?"
"No, ma'am."
"A _Captain_ Branscome, you say?"
"Yes, ma'am. He's a retired packet captain, and lame of one leg.
Every one in Falmouth knows Captain Branscome."
"H'm! Wouldn't this Captain Branscome wonder a little that a man of
your friend's age, and (we'll say) a bit wrong in his head, should
want to learn navigation?"
"He might, ma'am."
"He certainly would," snapped Miss Belcher. "And wouldn't this
Captain Branscome know it was perfectly useless to teach such a man?"
"I dare say he would, ma'am," I answered, guiltily recalling Captain
Branscome's own words to me on this subject.
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