The police boat accordingly set off, and we followed about fifty yards behind her. A thick drizzle was now falling, and it was by no means an easy matter to keep her in sight. For some time we pulled on. Presently we began to get closer to her. In a quarter of an hour we were alongside.
"There's your craft," said the Inspector, pointing as he spoke to a big vessel showing dimly through the scud to starboard of us. "Pull over to her."
I followed his instructions, and, arriving at the vessel's side, hitched on, made the painter fast, and then, having clambered aboard, assisted Mr. Wetherell to do the same. As soon as we had both gained the deck we stood and looked about us, at the same time listening for any sound which might proclaim the presence of the men we had come to meet; but save the sighing of the wind in the shrouds overhead, the dismal creaking of blocks, and the drip of moisture upon the deck, no sign was to be heard. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to make our way below as best we could. Fortunately I had had the forethought to bring with me a small piece of candle, which came in very handily at the present juncture, seeing that the cuddy, when we reached the companion ladder, was wrapt in total darkness. Very carefully I stepped inside, lit the candle, and then, with Mr. Wetherell at my heels, made my way down the steps.
Arriving at the bottom we found ourselves in a fair-sized saloon of the old-fashioned type. Three cabins stood on either side, while from the bottom of the companion ladder, by which we had descended, to a long cushioned locker right aft under the wheel, ran a table covered with American cloth. But there was no man of any kind to be seen. I opened cabin after cabin, and searched each with a like result. We were evidently quite alone in the ship.
"What do you make of it all?" I asked of Mr. Wetherell.
"It looks extremely suspicious," he answered. "Perhaps we're too early for them. But see, Mr. Hatteras, there's something on the table at the farther end."
So there was—something that looked very much like a letter. Together we went round to the end of the table, and there, surely enough, found a letter pinned to the American cloth, and addressed to my companion in a bold but rather quaint handwriting.
"It's for you, Mr. Wetherell," I said, removing the pins and presenting it to him. Thereupon we sat down beside the table, and he broke the seal with trembling fingers. It was not a very long epistle, and ran:—
"My dear Mr. Wetherell,—
"Bags of imitation money and spurious bank-notes will not avail you, nor is it politic to arrange that the Water Police should meet you on the harbour for the purpose of arresting me. You have lost your opportunity, and your daughter accordingly leaves Australia to-night. I will, however, give you one more chance—take care that you make the most of it. The sum I now ask is £150,000 with the stick given you by China Pete, and must be paid without inquiry of any sort. If you are agreeable to this, advertise as follows, 'I will Pay—W., and give stick!' in the agony column Sydney Morning Herald, on the 18th, 19th, and 20th of this present month. Arrangements will then be made with you.