So cleverly did he act, that even Mr. Ironsides was dumfounded.
"I wonder if Tom Dacre wasn't mistaken?" he thought to himself. "This fellow appears to be honest enough."
Aloud, however, he said:
"Thank you, captain. I'll take advantage of your offer and search your craft. You understand, of course, that this is no aspersion on your character. My orders are to search every craft on the lake in search of the kidnapped lads."
"Oh, that's all right," said Captain Rangler easily. "Make yourself at home. Go over this here boat from stem to stern. I'll warrant you'll find nothing but what's legitimate."
Mr. Ironsides started from the cabin to begin his search. As he did so, Captain Rangler, who was leaning out of the pilot-house window once more, gave a perceptible start, and uttered an exclamation.
Tom had, incautiously, ventured too close to the lens of the conning tower, in his anxiety to see what was going forward. Captain Rangler, who, up till that moment, had really believed that Mr. Ironsides was a police investigator, instantly recognized the lad, and also guessed what was on foot.
"Jim," he called to a sailor, "I want you to conduct Mr. Ironsides all over this craft. Take him everywhere. Don't leave a spot uncovered—and Jim"—the sailor came closer, while Rangler sank his voice to a whisper—"don't let him come on deck again. You understand?"
The sailor nodded, and joining Mr. Ironsides, made a great show of conducting him over the tug. They started in at the cabin, and by turns visited every nook and corner of the craft. The last place visited was the forecastle, a stuffy little hole in the bow of the tug.
"Well," said Mr. Ironsides, "I really see no trace of any lads here. I guess there must be some mistake about it."