"Judson's craft, the one that ran us down? Nonsense, you've got Judson on the brain, Jack."
"Have I? Well, it's an odd coincidence, then, that the yacht yonder has a tear in her foresail exactly where our bowsprit tore the Speedaway's jib this afternoon."
"By hookey, you're right, Jack!" cried Noddy. "There may be more to this than we think."
Billy was peering from behind a bush over the edge of the cliff, which was not very high.
He could see below, the dark figure of a man making a black patch in the gloom upon the white beach. He was moving about and pacing nervously to and fro on the shingle as if awaiting something or somebody.
Suddenly he made a swift move.
"He's waving his handkerchief," whispered Billy to the others, as he saw the man make a signal with a square of white linen.
"To that yacht, I'll bet a cookie," exclaimed Noddy.
As if in answer to his words there suddenly showed, on the yacht, a red lantern, as if a scarlet eye had suddenly opened across the dark water.