"And where do you think it's coming in?"
"Oh, blazes! How can we tell yet? There's a dozen places anywhere along here for twenty or thirty miles. And you can bet it doesn't come across in the same place twice."
The boatman breathed softly and lay clasping his oil-can. The men in the other launch were making their boat fast now.
"You're dead sure Washington's not just guessing about this?" observed the second speaker, a note of doubt in his voice. "Not that I mind sticking around a nice place like this for a while, but I'd like to show something for my time."
"They've got to do a certain amount of guessing, of course," said the other. "But it's not all guess. They're getting the thing fairly well located, and it's ciphering down to this part of the river. We know mighty well that Canada isn't beginning to use, not by half, the diamonds that have been shipped in from Antwerp. They're getting across the line to a certainty. There was a bunch of stuff got into New York last week, and the man who brought it had a railroad ticket that read from Clayton. We're still holding the stuff, but we can't prove anything yet."
"Maybe there's a half-way joint out here?"
"You mean on one of the islands? I've had that in mind. That's one reason I hired the boat. We'll do a little sightseeing to-morrow and get some new bearings."
The talkers were on the little wharf now. Sam pressed his body close against the flooring of the cock-pit.
"Well, I'm tired," said one. "Let's go on up to bed. It's all right to leave the boat here, is it?"
"That's what the man said. It's his dock."