“That’s your sloop out in the offing?” Jennison asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you use her to-day?”
“No; I rented her to a stranger, who wanted to go fishing. I didn’t know he had returned. Said he might be out most of the night, and the sloop wasn’t back when I turned in at dark.”
“Wasn’t, eh?” asked the constable, with quick interest. “Now will you tell me what the stranger looked like?”
“Why, he was about forty-five, I guess. Rather heavily built. His skin was well-bronzed——”
“That’s the man, French,” whispered Tom, nudging the officer. “His face had been stained a good bronze color.”
“Did the stranger give any word about coming back at some other time?” asked Jennison.
“No; he paid me for the afternoon and the evening,” replied the old man. It was plain that he had told all he knew about the stranger. The old man stated that he himself was a fisherman, but that in summer he often made more money taking out parties of summer boarders.
Joe, in the meantime, had gone down to the beach to watch the sloop. There appeared to be no one stirring aboard the craft, but, as a precaution, Jennison and the boys rowed out, thus making sure that the sloop was deserted. They hurriedly returned to shore. Jennison now displayed his badge, asking permission to look into the shanty. The old man readily gave the permission, adding, somewhat shakily: