“Know where Gradbarr can be found. Meet me ashore at the old Banta House at eight p. m. Police will be there. Yours for justice, Armstrong.”
The inventor hastily scribbled an answer in reply and handed it to Ned. The Dreadnought Boy hastened back on deck with it and found the bearded boatman resting easily on his oars, idly regarding the submarine’s structure.
“Here’s the answer,” said Ned, handing the note to him.
“Is he going to come?” asked the man, with a sudden flash of eagerness. The next instant, at Ned’s start of surprise, he checked himself, evidently realizing he had made a mistake.
“I mean what time am I to come for him?” he asked.
“How do I know,” rejoined Ned, but Mr. Lockyer, who had come on deck unnoticed, answered for him.
“Be here at seven-thirty, my man,” he said. “By the way, how far is it to the Banta House?”
“Why,” exclaimed Ned, in some surprise, “the Banta House is that old hotel away up the beach. They built it for a big summer resort, but it never paid. Too lonesome, I guess. Herc and I walked out there one day to see it. It’s a curious sight to see that fine building all going to rack and ruin in the woods.”
The bearded man in the boat had been eyeing Ned with great disfavor while he volunteered these details, and he now struck in in a gruff voice.
“It ain’t so lonesome,” he said. “I’ve bin there many a time. I’ll be here for you at seven-thirty, then, sir?”