"Only this."
The sailor produced the brooch from his waistcoat pocket. It was of the safety-pin order, but made of gold and ornamented with small emeralds set as a four-leafed shamrock.
"Is the maker's name on the sail?"
"No. I fancy that this craft was rigged on board ship for harbor cruisin'."
Brand passed a hand wearily across his forehead.
"I wish I had not been so precipitate," he murmured. "That man had papers on him, in all likelihood."
"You couldn't have stood it, mate. It was bad enough for me. It must ha' bin hell for you."
"Perhaps the baby's clothes are marked."
"That's a chance. She was well rigged out."
Brand cast the shark loose. The monster slid off into the green depths. A noiseless procession of dim forms rushed after the carcass. The birds, shrill with disappointment, darted off to scour the neighboring sea.