"Yes," said Tom Horn.
"And you can point the nose of a vessel toward this strange sea?"
"I would engage to put you alongside the ship itself," said Tom Horn.
Anthony's eyes narrowed. These were high words, and he was one to be moved little by sounds, no matter how brave. But Tom Horn was peculiar. Inside that odd exterior, a wisdom worked which was not common. Tom Horn, alone, of all who felt the burrowing under Rufus Stevens' Sons, had pointed out the runways of the rats. He had said strange things; and facts had sprung up to bear him out. There was a long silence; and then Anthony said:
"A vessel to make the search! How is one to be had?"
Thrilled, Christopher leaned across the table.
"Mademoiselle bade me say," said he, "that she'll be waiting and will have a ship at her call."
Anthony looked at the little apothecary; then the smile crept forward from the corners of his mouth, and his lips parted in a laugh.
"Mademoiselle grows better and better," he said. He turned a look upon the broad face of his watch, which hung upon the wall. "I have bedding enough for us all," he said. "So let's turn to it and get some sleep. To-morrow we take the track back to the city."