“I’m not blind,” responded the official addressed.
“Has the collier cleared yet?”
“No, and it will not until morning.”
This last answer to his questioning set the sergeant up in confidence that he would be soon dragging Hamar out of a dust pit.
The vessel which he was seeking was readily located, out at anchor, by an obliging stevedore, and the three officers, accompanied by our boys, reached the hulk in the wharf master’s launch.
It was in the deepening dusk that the searching party went aboard of the dingy craft, and the skipper was inclined to be surly until the rays from the mainmast lantern were reflected in the shining badges of authority on the breasts of two of the officers.
“What’s wanted?”
“A fugitive from justice.”
Strogoff’s declaration was snappy. He did not approve of the sullen attitude of the skipper.
“I will call the crew; you can choose your man.”