“Well?” asked the millionaire impatiently.
“It’s a shabby enough looking boat,” replied the young reporter, “and I can’t make any name out on her. It might be the one we want, and it might not.”
“We’ll have a try at her, at any rate,” decided Mr. Potter. “Captain Reardon, put us right for her. We’ll get as close as we can, and——”
He hesitated.
“Well?” asked the commander, waiting for orders.
“We can hail them, and ask them for the loan of a gasket. That will be a good excuse, and we really need some. They may not get suspicious then, or, at least, until we get so close that they can’t get away from us, crippled as we are. Eh, Larry?”
“I think that’s a good plan.”
Orders were sent to the engine-room to get all the speed possible out of the one motor in commission, and then the Elizabeth forged ahead on what all hoped would be the final spurt in the chase after the kidnappers.
“They don’t seem to be moving very fast,” remarked Grace, as she looked at the craft toward which they were making their way. “They are hardly moving at all.”
“Oh, if we can only catch up to them—and get my boy!” murmured the singer.