Captain Tom Halstead instantly gave speed ahead through the bridge controls, trying to gain as swiftly as he could the very considerable distance that had been lost. “It’s Frank’s wallet—his own. There’s his monogram on it,” cried Eben Moddridge, his voice quaking.
“See if there is any message inside,” shouted Tom, still keeping his gaze on that hull ahead, while Joe bounded below to nurse his motor on to better performances.
Mr. Moddridge’s fingers trembled so in trying to open the soaked wallet that Jed took it from him.
“Your friend’s money,” reported Prentiss, taking out a compact mass of banknotes and passing them to Mr. Moddridge. “Here are some cards, too, and that’s all.”
“See if anything is written on any of the cards,” Tom directed.
“Nothing on any of them,” Jed quickly reported.
“It’s Frank Delavan’s wallet, though,” cried Eben Moddridge.
“And Mr. Delavan is aboard that boat, a prisoner,” returned Tom Halstead. “The best he could do was to throw the wallet overboard in the hope that we’d see it and know where to look for him. There was only a small chance of our seeing it, but Jed did, and we won. Confound ’em! They seem to be gaining on us!”
As it became more evident that the stranger was gradually pulling further ahead of the “Rocket,” Eben Moddridge’s face began to twitch, his breath coming shorter and faster.