“I feel a good deal annoyed,” said Judge Swan, presently. “I was in Boston yesterday. My friend, Mr. Percival, was to start over to Nantucket with me at six this morning, in order that I might open court at nine o’clock. Mr. Percival wired me yesterday that his launch had broken down, but the telegram must have reached Boston after I had gone to the train. So I must go over on the forenoon passenger steamer, I fear.”
“If we were going back sooner,” explained Mr. Crane, “my client would be most happy to give you a seat on his boat. But we feel that, if young Theodore Dunstan is found, it will be on the mainland. So we are waiting until the last moment.”
“Yet, if heaven favors us,” broke in Horace Dunstan, “we could take my son over on the regular forenoon passenger boat, and be in court this afternoon. The ‘Meteor’ could be back here soon after the passenger boat leaves. So, Judge, may I offer you the use of the ‘Meteor?’”
“Do you mean that?” asked Judge Swan, looking at the owner in delight.
“Most assuredly,” replied Mr. Dunstan. “I shall be glad, judge, if you will make use of my boat.”
“Then I shall accept with great pleasure,” replied his honor. “I know how swift your boat is.”
“Then, captain,” said Mr. Dunstan, turning to Halstead, “you understand your instructions, which are to get Judge Swan in Nantucket before nine o’clock this morning.”
“It’s the only boat in these waters that could do it,” Tom replied, with pardonable pride, as he sprang aboard.
“Come back, captain, as soon as you land his honor,” was Mr. Dunstan’s parting word. “If you pass the passenger steamer, watch for me at her rail. I may signal you.”
Before she had left the pier three hundred yards behind, the nimble motor boat was going at better than twenty miles an hour. Gradually the speed was increased. Judge Swan stood on the bridge deck beside Tom.