After half an hour the light disappeared, then he heard the swift, quick churning of waters, a sound as of a powerful motor-boat manoeuvering, and a long body shot out on the waters.
"All right down there?" Hatch called.
"All right," came the response.
There was again silence, then Ernest Weston and The Thinking Machine came up.
"Where is the other man?" asked Hatch. "The ghost--where is he?" echoed the constable. "He escaped in the motor-boat," replied Mr. Weston, easily.
"Escaped?" exclaimed Hatch and the constable together.
"Yes, escaped," repeated The Thinking Machine, irritably. "Mr. Hatch, let's go to the hotel."
Struggling with a sense of keen disappointment, Hatch followed the other two men silently. The constable walked beside him, also silent. At last they reached the hotel and bade the constable, a sadly puzzled, bewildered and crestfallen man, goodnight.
"By ginger!" he remarked, as he walked away into the dark.
Upstairs the three men sat, Hatch impatiently waiting to hear the story. Weston lighted a cigarette and lounged back; The Thinking Machine sat with finger tips pressed together, studying the ceiling.