When Ned briefly rehearsed the circumstances of the capture, modestly keeping himself in the background, their enthusiasm knew no bounds. The rueful, woebegone captives were marched off to the steamer, while Ned hastened to a telephone. He got Police Headquarters and told the official in charge about the prisoners on the roof of the “Fair Wind.”
“I’ll send a patrol wagon right down,” declared the official.
“Better send a big bunch of men, too. They’re a bad lot,” said Ned.
“I know all about them. We’ve been trying for a long time to land Schmidt. Now, thanks to you, we’ve got him with the goods on.”
“I reckon you have,” rejoined Ned with a grin.
“By the way, what’s your name and address?” came the voice at the other end of the wire.
“Ned Strong is my name, and my address is the Dreadnought Manhattan, at anchor off Goat Island in the harbor.”
A marked note of surprise was in the official’s voice as he exclaimed:
“Strong, did you say?”
“Yes, sir!”