He made his way down the passage to the front shop. It was empty. As he had suspected, the conspirators, who had made it their headquarters, had decamped.
On the floor near the door, which had been left open, Herc spied a scrap of paper. He picked it up and saw that there was writing upon it. With some difficulty he deciphered the scrawl:
"Yacht Halcyon. Erie Basin. Thence Panama."
"Now what does that mean?" said Herc to himself, scratching his head perplexedly. "I guess I'll keep this, anyhow; it may give the police a clew."
A few moments later the nattily dressed summer residents of the island were astonished at the spectacle of a red-headed youth in dripping garments hurrying down the main street, inquiring anxiously the direction of the police station.
When it was found, Herc had a story to tell that resulted in detectives being scattered broadcast through the island. But all efforts to locate the conspirators were unavailing.
They had had a good start and had made the most of it.
In the meantime, Herc made his way to a wireless station maintained on the island and secured communication with the gunboat. What he learned did not decrease his uneasiness on Ned's account.
The young skipper had not returned and an officer had been detailed from the fleet to command the craft. Herc was peremptorily ordered to report on board the Manhattan at once and give an account of himself.