"Some one signaling from the wall lower down," Tom soon informed the negro pilot. "Put in where you see the signaling."
"It is I, Corbett," called the foreman of that name. "Mr. Reade, these two men with me belong to the Blixton police."
"Perhaps you had rather walk down to the dock, then, instead of getting into the boat," laughed Reade. "We have four bombs aboard, just taken out of the wall above here."
Accordingly the three turned and walked. At the landing the policemen gazed curiously at the bombs.
"Do you want to take charge of these?" Reade queried.
"Not particular about it," replied the policeman, with a shrug. "We'd be scorched for endangering the town if we took those things into Blixton. Your foreman, Mr. Reade, called us out here to see if we could get trail of your missing Mexican servant."
"That's a vastly more important thing to do," Tom replied with enthusiasm.
"I want to find Nicolas before I do another thing."
"Come here, Bill," called one of the officers.
Out of the shadows near the shore came a youth leading a dog on a leash.
"This dog is a bloodhound," announced one of the policemen with visible pride. "Take him to where the scent of the Mexican starts, and the dog will follow as long as there's any scent left. But, first, we'll have to have something that the Mexican has worn, so that the hound will know the true scent."