Then the “Rocket” was started on a very slow cruise over all the waters nearby. After a few minutes Captain Halstead began to feel that further search, especially in the fog, would be useless. Yet he continued the hunt for more than an hour. No further traces, however, were found of the boat’s owner—or late owner. Which?
Every few minutes Jed was sent up to deck to ask uselessly for news.
“How’s Mr. Moddridge getting along?” queried Captain Tom, at last.
“If he does any worse,” confided Jed, “he won’t live to reach the pier. I never saw a man more unstrung. He keeps insisting that he knows Mr. Delavan is dead—drowned.”
“And I’m almost equally positive that nothing of the sort has happened to Mr. Delavan,” Tom Halstead retorted.
“You——?” gasped Jed, wonderingly, but could go no further, his astonishment was so intense.
“I’m of the same opinion as Tom,” Joe Dawson added, quietly.
“You two have been talking it over, then?” Jed queried.
“Not very much,” Joe replied. “But there are some things about this case that look mighty queer for a drowning.”