There was a telephone instrument in the room that speedily put the distracted father in communication with one of his detectives over on the mainland. A long talk followed, the upshot of it being that the detective in charge of the search asked that the “Meteor” be sent over to Wood’s Hole at once, that she might be ready for any sea-going following-up of clues that might be necessary.
“For, of course, we’ve got to find that cabin sloop,” finished Detective Musgrave. “If the sloop isn’t at sea, then the chase undoubtedly must be followed on the mainland. If we have the ‘Meteor’ here we can do quickly anything that may appear necessary.”
So Tom received his instant sailing orders. As he hurried from the house, down through the grounds, the young skipper felt relieved at one point. With his belief in Ted’s honesty he had been inclined to suspect that Horace Dunstan, for some unknown reasons of his own, such, for instance, as a distaste for having his son go into the Army, might have brought about a pretended disappearance.
“But now I know,” muttered Tom, “that Mr. Dunstan is just as honest in his declarations as Ted appeared to be in saying the opposite. If Horace Dunstan has been lying to me just now, I’d have very little further faith in human honesty.”
The “Meteor” was speedily on her way. First Joe, and then Tom, was served in the little galley, Jed getting in his mouthfuls as best he could before the motor boat was tied up at Wood’s Hole.
Before Tom had time to land a keen-eyed, smooth-faced man of thirty-five, broad-shouldered and a little above medium height, stepped forward out of the darkness and over the rail.
“Do you know me, Captain Halstead?” he asked, in a low voice.
“Yes, I think so,” Tom answered. “You’re Mr. Musgrave, one of the detectives sent down from New York at Mr. Dunstan’s request.”
“I am in charge of the case at this point,” said Musgrave. “Lead me below.”
Tom conducted his caller down into the engine-room, thence through the passageway into the cabin.