Half a dozen well-dressed, alert-looking young men who stood on the pier seemed to be greatly interested in the “Rocket” as that boat was berthed. Jed was at the wheel as Captain Tom stood by the rail, ready to leap ashore.
“Mr. Francis Delavan aboard?” hailed one of the young men, just as the young skipper’s feet touched the pier.
“Why do you want to know?” Halstead cross-questioned.
“I’m from the New York ‘Herald’,” replied the young man. “I am here to interview Mr. Delavan.”
“I’m from the ‘World’,” added another young man. Halstead at once understood that this group was made up of reporters.
“Mr. Delavan didn’t go out with us this morning,” replied Captain Tom, while Eben Moddridge surveyed the reporters, uneasily. Seeing a cab up the road, Halstead signaled it vigorously.
“Where is Mr. Delavan?” demanded the “World” representative.
“That’s Mr. Delavan’s business. I can’t tell you,” replied Tom, a bit stiffly.
“Is his friend, Mr. Moddridge, aboard? Is that Mr. Moddridge?” asked another of the reporters. The nervous man, under the concentrated gaze of six reporters, became more nervous than ever.
“Gentlemen,” went on Halstead, hurriedly, drawing out his watch just as the vehicle rolled down to the pier and stopped, “it’s twenty-five minutes of three, and the Stock Exchange in New York closes at three o’clock. That is Mr. Moddridge on board, but he is in a rush to reach the telephone office, and he can’t lose even a second until he has talked with New York.”