"P.S. The others are all right. The bearer can't wait."
"Can you beat that!" I gasped.
"Exceedingly ingenious," murmured King. "Dear me, how fortunate it was that we returned when we did."
"We mustn't leave anything to chance, though," said Nikka quickly: "You can't tell what other steps they may have taken to trap her. We had better go down to the dock at once."
Hugh glanced at the clock.
"Yes, she'd hardly be back yet," he muttered. "One moment. I'll leave word at the desk that she is not to go out, no matter what message she may receive, until we return."
He rejoined us at the door, and we all entered a taxi which Nikka had impounded. Nobody said anything, but while we were jolting into Galata Hugh produced his automatic, and make sure it contained a full clip. At the dock there was no sign of the Curlew, and the late afternoon sunlight failed to reveal her stubby little hull amongst the shipping in the Golden Horn. None of the dock attendants had seen the launch or anything of Betty or Watkins since we had waved good-by to them before three o'clock.
We waited a while, thinking they might show up, but after six o'clock King became nervous and persuaded us to return to the hotel. There, too, there was no word of them, and we began to worry in earnest. Dusk was coming on rapidly, and it was not like Betty to protract her cruise so late, although she was fully capable of navigating after dark, with the help of Watkins, or, for that matter, without his help.
We taxied to the dock a second time. The Curlew was nowhere to be seen.
"Perhaps it would be advisable to hire a boat and search for them in the Marmora," suggested King. "Their engine may have broken down."