"She was loaded to the Plimsoll mark when she passed us," Torry said. "What could she have done with her cargo in so short a time?"
"I'd like to know," agreed Whistler thoughtfully.
"We ought to tell somebody," declared Frenchy.
"Let's be sure we tell the right person," Whistler advised. "Come on now and get some supper. We've an hour to wait for a train to Seacove."
They marched up the main street of the port. The fog was not so thick inshore here. Just before they reached the restaurant they usually patronized when they were in the town, Whistler uttered an exclamation and held his friends back.
"See those two men going into Yancey's Restaurant?" he queried.
"What about 'em?" Frenchy asked.
"The fellow ahead," said Whistler Morgan deeply in earnest, "is that man Blake. The other I bet is the captain of the Sarah Coville."
"Well," asked Torry, after a moment, "what are you waiting for? Their eating at Yancey's won't stop us from going there too, will it?"