He jerked out his watch and looked at it again. It was seven minutes after three. Walking to the bay-side, he shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed anxiously in the direction of the inlet. Granting that Gregory arrived within the next half-hour, what could he possibly accomplish in so short a time? All McCoy's efforts to confer with Rock had been fruitless. The bank president could not be located and had left but one word.
He would be at the cannery at four o'clock.
The low-lying clouds which hung about the entrance to Crescent Bay rifted sullenly and exposed the ragged line of rocks which made up the jetty.
"Right on the dot," Dickie Lang exclaimed. "I
was afraid maybe I was too far down. What time is it now?"
"Three-thirty," Gregory answered. "We ought to dock in ten minutes."
"We'll be there in five unless I run into something going down the harbor."
"Stop at the municipal dock first," Gregory instructed her. "I'm going to run ashore and try to get a bond. Then we'll go on to the cannery."
Hawkins roused himself from his lethargy as they sped down the bay.
"I can help you some," he announced. "I can go on your bond. I own at least three times the amount of the claim in real estate in this county. That will save us some time. We can get a blank form from a notary and have him fill it out. Then all we've got to do is to find the judge."