"But I don't understand," said the lad. "Where is Mr. Blake? Why should those fellows disappear so suddenly? I was to meet the lawyer here, and look over this boat——"
"Mr. Blake never came here," said Widdy, bluntly. "It's a plant—a game—to get you on board. I'll wager that note sent to your hotel was forged."
"But why should they want to get me here?"
"To rob you, most likely. They know you're rich."
"Then that must have been why those two men paid such close attention to me," decided Dick.
"Of course," agreed the old sailor. "As soon as I clapped eyes on Jake Shrouder I knew there was something crooked afoot. I've known him for years—sailed all over in ships with him—and I never knew a piece of black business afoot anywhere near him that he didn't have his finger in. I knew there was something wrong as soon as I see him, and that's why I made a jump for him, but he was too quick for me."
"But who does this yacht belong to?" asked Dick. "We seem to be all alone on it."
"I hope we are. I don't want to have anything to do with those fellows. I don't know who owns the craft. Like as not Shrouder has an interest in her. But let's get ashore, and then we'll call on Mr. Blake and let him know what's in the wind. It was all a plant, I tell you, to get you aboard, and then they'd have robbed you."
"But I don't carry much money with me," objected Dick.
"No matter. They'd have found some way to get it out of you, or your father. But, come on, let's leave this bilge-water craft. Phew! It hasn't been swabbed out in a month of Sundays."