The tender ranged alongside the other craft. The engines of the latter had been stopped; she lay motionless on the water. But the inspectors were alert for a trap. Perhaps the men on the Artful Dodger had one ready, but the sight of the armed officials caused them to undergo a change of mind.
Just as they ranged alongside, there came a snarl of rage from Malvin as his eyes lighted on Ralph. Beside himself with fury, he sprang at the lad with the ferocity of a tiger.
“Confound you!” he roared. “You are to blame for all this!”
Ralph caught the fellow by the wrist as Malvin aimed a vicious blow at him with an oar. The next instant there was a splash and Malvin was overboard. There was not much fight left in him when they fished him out.
In the meantime La Rue had been detected in the act of attempting to conceal a leather wallet. The chief inspector wrenched it from him, and it was found to contain the gems all intact.
Rawson submitted to arrest more quietly than had been expected, as did the redoubtable Slim. On the way to the River Swallow, with the Artful Dodger in tow, Malvin admitted having stolen the old man’s boat while he and Ralph were at breakfast, and said that it could be found on Windmill Island.
“Now, if I only had my boy back, I should be happy,” sighed the old man, as he heard of the safety of his beloved skiff.
“You’d better tell him, La Rue,” said Malvin, to his sullen comrade.
“Well, if you want to know,” said La Rue, after a pause, “your precious grandson is in the Mercy Hospital in Cardinal.”
“In the hospital?” gasped the old man. “Jimmie?”