They clambered down the iron ladder and jumped on to the deck of the tug. The captain seized the wheel. The two men who formed the crew took off their coats and waistcoats.
“Give it her, Jim,” the former ordered. “Now, then, here goes! We’ll just miss the ferry.”
They swung around and commenced their journey. Quest stood with his watch in his hand. They were getting up the anchor of the Durham, and from higher up the river came the screech of steamers beginning to move on their outward way.
“We’ll make it all right,” the captain assured them.
They were within a hundred yards of the Durham when Quest gave a little exclamation. From the other side of the steamer another tug shot away, turning back towards New York. Huddled up in the stern, half concealed in a tarpaulin, was a man in a plain black suit. Quest, with a little shout, recognised the man at the helm from his long brown beard.
“That’s one of those fellows who was in the truck,” he declared, “and that’s Craig in the stern! We’ve got him this time. Say, Captain, it’s that tug I want. Never mind about the steamer. Catch it and I’ll make it a hundred dollars!”
The man swung round the wheel, but he glanced at Quest a little doubtfully.
“Say, what is this show?” he asked.
Quest opened his coat and displayed his badge. He pointed to the Inspector.
“Police job. This is Inspector French, I am Sanford Quest.”