“Go below, then. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Dorothy slid the cabin door open and dropped down on a locker. Presently Bill followed and took a seat opposite her.
“Better not light the lamp,” he advised, “it’s too risky now. By the way, Dorothy, I’m darn glad to see you again.”
Dorothy smiled. “So ’m I. I’ve missed you while you were away, and I sure do need your help now. Tell me—where in the wide world am I?”
“This tub is tied up to somebody else’s mooring off the Babylon waterfront,—if that’s any help to you.”
“It certainly is. I hate to lose my bearings. Here’s another: I don’t suppose you happen to know what this is all about?”
Bill crossed his knees and leaned back comfortably.
“There’s not much doubt in my mind, after tonight’s doings. Those men in the beach cottage are diamond smugglers and no pikers at the game, take it from me!”
“Ooh!” Dorothy’s eyes widened. “Diamonds, eh! That’s beyond my wildest dreams. How do they smuggle them, Bill?”
“Well, these fellows have a new wrinkle to an old smuggling trick. Somebody aboard an ocean liner drops a string of little boxes, fastened together at long intervals—the accomplices follow the steamer in a boat and pick them up. And now, from what I’ve found out, there’s every reason to believe that this gang are chucking their boxes overboard in the neighborhood of Fire Island Light.”