“As we came around the bend the searchlight threw a ray between the trees, and I’m sure I saw a cabin sloop down in the offing,” Tom explained.
“I didn’t see it.”
“And I got only a brief glimpse,” Halstead rejoined. “But don’t you think it’s worth our while to get out and go down to the water’s edge?”
“Of course,” nodded the constable. The three piled out of the tonneau, leaving the chauffeur alone. Tom led the way, going straight between the trees down to the water.
“That’s the very sloop, I’d almost swear,” whispered Tom, pointing to a craft at anchor a hundred yards or so from shore. A small boat lay hauled up on the beach. Not far from where the three stood was a ramshackle little shanty from which no light shone.
“We’ll give our attention to the house, first,” declared the constable. Accordingly they stepped up to the door, Jennison knocking loudly. From inside came a snore. The summons had to be repeated before a voice inside demanded:
“Who’s there? What’s wanted?”
“A traveler who wants to speak with you,” replied the officer.
There were sounds inside. Then the door opened. They were confronted by a white-haired old man, partly dressed and holding a lighted lantern. He made a venerable picture as he stood there in the doorway.
“Well?” he asked.