Leaving Axtell in camp, they drove to town, stopping at the North end of the Severn bridge to hire a row-boat,—a number of which were drawn up on the bank—and to arrange for it to be sent around to the far end of the Point. At the hotel, they found a telephone call from the Mayor’s office awaiting them.
The thieves had been duly captured, the Mayor said, and they had been sent to Baltimore. The Chief of Detectives happened to be in the office, when they were brought in, and had instantly recognized them as well-known criminals, wanted in 172 Philadelphia for a particularly atrocious hold-up. He had, thereupon, thought it best to let the Chief take them back with him, thus saving the County the cost of a trial, and the penitentiary expense—as well as sparing Mr. Croyden and his friend much trouble and inconvenience in attending court. He had had them searched, but found nothing which could be identified. He hoped this was satisfactory.
Croyden assured him it was more than satisfactory.
That night they began the hunt. That night, and every night for the next three weeks, they kept at it.
They tested every conceivable hypothesis. They dug up the entire zone of suspicion—it being loose sand and easy to handle. On the plea that a valuable ruby ring had been lost overboard while fishing, they dragged and scraped the bottom of the Bay for a hundred yards around. All without avail. Nothing smiled on them but the weather—it had remained uniformly good until the last two days before. Then there had set in, from the North-east, such a storm of rain as they had never seen. The very Bay seemed to be gathered up and dashed over the Point. They had sought refuge in the hotel, when the first chilly blasts of wind and water came up the Chesapeake. As it grew fiercer,—and a negro sent out for information returned with the news that their tents had 173 been blown away, and all trace of the camp had vanished—it was decided that the quest should be abandoned.
“It’s a foolish hunt, anyway!” said Croyden. “We knew from the first it couldn’t succeed.”
“But we wanted to prove that it couldn’t succeed,” Macloud observed. “If you hadn’t searched, you always would have thought that, maybe, you could have been successful. Now, you’ve had your try—and you’ve failed. It will be easier to reconcile yourself to failure, than not to have tried.”
“In other words, it’s better to have tried and lost, than never to have tried at all,” Croyden answered. “Well! it’s over and there’s no profit in thinking more about it. We have had an enjoyable camp, and the camp is ended. I’ll go home and try to forget Parmenter, and the jewel box he buried down on Greenberry Point.”
“I think I’ll go with you,” said Macloud.
“To Hampton!” Croyden exclaimed, incredulously.