“Good gracious! What have they done to him?” gasped the young motor boat skipper.
The Wall Street man lay on his back, his arms under him, as though tied behind him.
The plank he was holding fell to one side as Tom Halstead’s first glimpse of his employer revealed that much.
There was a gag in Mr. Delavan’s mouth, but the startling signs were the purplish blue in his face and the queer, lifeless look in his partly-open eyes.
“Have they killed him? Is it spite work, or all part of their fearful plot?” shuddered Tom Halstead.
Then, his heart pounding against his ribs at a fearful rate, the boy bent down to rest an inquiring hand on that unnatural-looking face.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE JEST THAT BECAME GRIM EARNEST
“WHATEVER you’re doing, old chap, hustle!” sounded Joe Dawson’s warning voice from the deck overhead “The boat’s getting uncomfortably near with its load of scoundrels!”