“Why do you wish me to do that?”
“I wish—that is—I wud like to shake hands wid that gintleman and ask him how his folks was whin he last heerd from them. Just a wee bit of friendly converse betwaan two gintlemen—that’s all. Come now, Cap, be obliging,” continued Mike, in a wheedling tone which did not deceive his superior officer.
“I faal a sort of liking for the young gintleman and should be much pleased if ye would give me a chance to have a few frindly words wid him—I say, Cap, ye’re losing vallyble time, fur we’re passing each ither fast.”
“No, Mike—not to-day; I have no objection to your having a little ‘conversation’ with Mr. Noxon or his companion, but this isn’t the right way to go about it.”
“I hope ye didn’t suspict that I had any intintion of saying harsh wurruds to them, Cap!” protested the Irish youth, in grieved tones.
“Not words particularly, but there would be enough rough acts to make things lively. Chester, let me have the glasses, while you take the wheel for a few minutes.”
They hastily exchanged places, and steadying his position, Alvin pointed the instrument at the receding launch. Detective Calvert still knelt on the floor and peeped over the side of the boat. He did not ask for the binoculars nor did the owner offer them to him.
Suddenly Alvin slipped down beside his friend in front and passed him the instrument, as he resumed the wheel. While doing so, he whispered in a voice so low that no one else could hear what he said:
“Look just behind the fellow who is steering. He’s Noxon, I’m sure! Study closely and let me know whether you see anything suspicious.”
Wondering to what he referred, Chester complied. While doing his best to learn what his friend meant the latter whispered again: