"Maybe Mr. Bird was on this steam yacht," called up Tom.
Sam and Hans went over the stuff in the lockers with care. They found some cards bearing the name of James Morrison and a short note about a meeting of a yacht club addressed to Barton Knox.
"Those men must have been on the Mermaid," said Sam. "Perhaps they were part owners. Frequently several men or a whole club own a yacht like this in common."
"Vell, she ton't vos a common poat," was Hans' comment. "She vos a peauty."
Sam was on the point of giving up the search when he saw something sticking from a crack next to the wall. He pulled the object forth and saw it was the photograph of a big, heavy-set man with rather a handsome face. He turned it over and gave a short gasp, for on the back was written in pencil:
Sharwell Lee Bird, Murderer.
"What a horrible thing to write!" murmured the youngest Rover. "It makes a fellow shiver to read it!"
"Of he killed dot man ven he vos hunting he vos sure a murderer, Sam."
"Not exactly, Hans; he didn't mean to shoot the fellow. It was accidental."
"Yah, put der mans vos teat, ain't it!"