“I have the Beaufort operator,” reported Joe, after a few moments.
“Then rush this message, and ask the operator to get it in the hands of the chief of police without an instant’s loss of time,” directed Mr. Seaton, speaking in jerky haste. 40
The message described Anson Dalton, also the black schooner on which he had last been seen. The police chief was asked to arrest Dalton on sight, on the authority of Powell Seaton, and hold him for the United States authorities, for an attempt at homicide on an American ship on the high seas.
Within ten minutes back came the reply from Beaufort to this effect:
“I have men out watching for the schooner. Man Dalton will be arrested as you request. Will notify you.”
“Good!” cried Mr. Seaton, rubbing his hands vengefully. “Oh, Dalton, you scoundrel, you can’t escape us now, for long! You knew that, if you continued down the coast, there was danger that a United States revenue cutter would intercept the ship and take you off. At best, you knew you would be arrested at Rio Janeiro, if I suspected you, as I was bound to do. So you tried to steal ashore here, to be swallowed up in the mazes of this broad country at least an hour or two ahead of pursuit. And, but for the wireless spark that leaps through space, you could have done so. But we shall have you now.”
“Unless––” began Tom Halstead, hintingly, then paused.
“Unless—what?” insisted Mr. Seaton. 41
“Suppose Dalton is shrewd enough to pay the captain of the schooner to land him at some other point, where there is neither a policeman nor a telegraph station?”
Seaton made a noise that sounded as though he were grinding his teeth. Then he picked up a pencil, writing furiously.