“I know, Captain Halstead,” she whispered, “that you feel disappointed over not having a search made. But believe me, Mr. Tremaine does not understand how you feel. He doesn’t for a moment suspect, now, that you or Mr. Dawson took the money, and he knows Ham hasn’t it. Mr. Tremaine has his own notions of sensitiveness, and he prefers to drop the whole matter. He has been drugged. There isn’t a doubt about that, and his head is still bothering him so that he isn’t able to think clearly. Having made up his mind as best he can, however, he won’t change it.”
“It’ll be all right,” replied Tom, moodily, in a low voice. “I’ll have the thing settled myself.”
“This man is going to take us ashore,” broke in Mr. Tremaine, from several feet away. “Then he’ll come back for the baggage. Captain, you and Mr. Dawson will join us ashore at breakfast, won’t you?”
“One of us will,” Halstead made answer. “The other must remain aboard the yacht to look out for it.”
Ham went over the side with the late passengers, Officer Randolph remaining behind at Tom Halstead’s almost whispered request.
By the time that the boat put out from shore again the two boys and the Tres Arbores policeman were just coming up from below.
“Since they want one of us ashore, Tom,” urged Dawson, “you’d better be the one to go.”
“Why don’t you get on land and stretch your legs?” Halstead inquired.
“Humph!” grunted Dawson. “I don’t believe it would be safe for me to sit at table with that fellow Dixon. I’d feel a violent impulse, all the time, to put my closed hand against his face.”
“Not in the presence of ladies!” smiled Skipper Tom.