“They have gone where the current took them,” said Uncle Luke, coldly. “Want the help of your men to get these poor creatures home.”
The detective made no reply, but stood gazing out to sea and listening intently. Then turning to his men—
“One of you keep watch here in case they try to land with him. You come with me.”
The two policemen followed his instructions, one taking his place at the extreme end of the point, the other following just as voices were heard, and a group of fishermen, who had been awakened to the fact that there was something wrong, came down the rocky breakwater.
“Here, some of you, I want a boat—a swift boat, and four men to pull. Ah, you!”
This to a couple of the coastguard who had put in an appearance, and after a few hurried words one party went toward the head of the breakwater, while another, full of sympathy for the Vines, went on to the end of the point.
There was plenty of willing help, but George Vine had now recovered from his swoon, and rose up to refuse all offers of assistance.
“No, Luke,” he said more firmly now; “I must stay.”
“But our child, Louise?”
“She must stay with me.”