The bit of headgear had been kicked close to the string-piece of the wharf, and a fearful fear that made Harry’s head swim shot into his mind. Could Frank have come down to the wharf, suspecting mischief was on foot, and have either fallen or been thrown into the water?
“Look—look here, sir,” he exclaimed in a shaking voice, as Dr. Perkins asked him what was the matter.
“What is it?” asked the doctor, coming forward. “A clew?”
“Yes; it’s—it’s Frank’s cap, doctor. Pray heaven no harm has befallen him.”
“If it has, swift vengeance is going to overtake somebody,” declared Dr. Perkins, clenching his hands; “where did you find the cap?”
“Close to the string-piece. You—you don’t think he could have fallen over?”
“Nonsense,” declared Dr. Perkins with a confidence he was far from feeling; “we’ll get him back again safe and sound, never fear.”
But Harry’s heart sank as he fingered his brother’s cap.
“I’m trying to think so, too, sir,” he said miserably; “but—but——”
He paused abruptly, for he could not have gone further without breaking down. Harry had gone through some anxious moments in his life, but never had his heart sunk so low as it did that night on the Bayhaven wharf.