Chapter Twenty-Six THE NIGHT CHASE AND THE MUDLARK
‘I’LL board her to start with,’ said Hazell, whispering to Racksole. ‘I’ll make out that I suspect they’ve got dutiable goods on board, and that will give me a chance to have a good look at her.’
Dressed in his official overcoat and peaked cap, he stepped, rather jauntily as Racksole thought, on to the low deck of the launch. ‘Anyone aboard?’
Racksole heard him cry out, and a woman’s voice answered. ‘I’m a Customs examining officer, and I want to search the launch,’ Hazell shouted, and then disappeared down into the little saloon amidships, and Racksole heard no more. It seemed to the millionaire that Hazell had been gone hours, but at length he returned.
‘Can’t find anything,’ he said, as he jumped into the boat, and then privately to Racksole: ‘There’s a woman on board. Looks as if she might coincide with your description of Miss Spencer. Steam’s up, but there’s no engineer. I asked where the engineer was, and she inquired what business that was of mine, and requested me to get through with my own business and clear off. Seems rather a smart sort. I poked my nose into everything, but I saw no sign of any one else. Perhaps we’d better pull away and lie near for a bit, just to see if anything queer occurs.’
‘You’re quite sure he isn’t on board?’ Racksole asked.
‘Quite,’ said Hazell positively: ‘I know how to search a vessel. See this,’ and he handed to Racksole a sort of steel skewer, about two feet long, with a wooden handle. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is one of the Customs’ aids to searching.’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t do to go on board and carry off the lady?’ Racksole suggested doubtfully.
‘Well,’ Hazell began, with equal doubtfulness, ‘as for that—’
‘Where’s ‘e orf?’ It was the man in the bows who interrupted Hazell.