“Poor fellow,” sighed Halstead. “And there are only twenty-four hours left for finding the Dunstan heir.”
“No news, I take it, sir?” hailed Tom, as the owner stepped upon the pier and came toward the boat.
“None, since the word Mr. Musgrave sent me last night of your exploits,” murmured Horace Dunstan, shaking his head sadly. “And to think that my boy has spent days aboard that ugly craft,” he added, gazing wistfully at the yellow-hulled launch at anchor a few rods away. Then he turned once more to the young skipper.
“How are you and your friends, Halstead? Very tired?”
“I don’t believe we’re so weary that you’d notice it unless you looked very hard,” smiled Halstead.
“If you’re not too much used up by last night’s work I have a favor to ask of you. But it’s not an order, understand?”
“Why, what can it be, Mr. Dunstan?”
“Well, you see,” continued the owner apologetically, “before this trouble happened we had invited Mrs. Lester and her two young daughters to spend a fortnight with us. They had not heard of our misfortune, and so they came over on this morning’s boat. They heard in Nantucket and telephoned us, proposing to turn about and go home again. But of course we insisted that they should come to us. They are going to church, this evening, but Mrs. Dunstan is so much upset over the mystery surrounding our son that—that—well, we thought of proposing that they use the ‘Meteor’ for a little sail this afternoon. That is, in case you young men are not too tired to——”
“Why, of course we can take the boat out,” replied Halstead, breaking in upon the considerate owner. “It won’t tire us any more than lolling around the pier.”
“Mrs. Dunstan and I will both be greatly pleased if you will do it,” declared Horace Dunstan gratefully.