They shouted, but the ship's officers waved them back.
"Too late!" one of the deckhands shouted, a little pleased to see that someone would be inconvenienced for tardiness.
The porters argued. But it was no use. All they could do was to carry the box back to the Dodge car.
Miss Dodge was just getting in as they returned.
"What shall we do with this and the other stuff?" asked the Irish porter.
She looked at the rest of the tagged luggage and the box which was marked:
Scientific Instruments Valuable Handle with care.
"Here—pile them in here," she said indicating the taxicab. "I'll take charge of them."
Meanwhile one of our sinister faced friends had just had time to regain the shore after following us aboard ship and strolling past the window of our stateroom. He paused long enough to observe one of the occupants studying a map, while the other was opening a bag.
"They're gone!" he said to the other as he rejoined him on the dock, giving a nod of his head and a jerk of his thumb at the ship.