Louise had risen to her feet as he spoke, and clung to his arm in mute acquiescence; and once more they stood watching the star-spangled sea.
Ten minutes later a well-manned boat passed out of the harbour, with the detective officer in her bows and a couple of the strongest lights they could obtain.
Just as this boat came abreast of the point the rowing ceased, and a brilliant glare suddenly flashed out as the officer held aloft a blue signal light; and while the boat was forced slowly along he carefully scanned the rocks in the expectation of seeing his quarry clinging somewhere to their face.
The vivid light illumined the group upon the point, and the water flashed and sparkled as it ran eddying by, while from time to time a gleaming drop of golden fire dropped with a sharp hissing explosion into the water, and a silvery grey cloud of smoke gathered overhead.
The officer stayed till the blue light had burned out, and then tossing the wooden handle into the water, he gave his orders to the men to row on out toward the other boats. The transition from brilliant light to utter darkness was startling as it was sudden; and as the watchers followed the dim-looking lanterns, they saw that about a mile out they had paused.
George Vine uttered a gasping sigh, and his child clung to him as if both realised the meaning of that halt. But they were wrong, for when the men in the detective’s boat had ceased rowing, it was because they were close abreast of the lugger, whose crew had hailed them.
“Got him?”
“No. Is he aboard your boat?”
Without waiting for an answer, the detective and his men boarded the lugger, and, to the disgust of her crew, searched from end to end.
“Lucky for you, my lads, that he is not here,” said the officer.