“But surely speed boats are plentiful enough nowadays,[Pg 40]” I answered. “There couldn’t have been much to arouse suspicion, even if we had shot directly alongside. The lad said it was shortest.”
“It’s easy to see you don’t know Carl Stroth. Look!”
The steady, bright-eyed glare of a powerful searchlight ate into the night. It came from the schooner’s fore crosstrees.
“Get it through your noddle at last?”
“Yes,” said I humbly enough.
For some minutes the searchlight played over the waters; but it was noticeable that it confined its attentions to a small arc; and that arc, fortunately or unfortunately, did not include that portion of the bay where lay our inert, low-lying craft.
But its radiance suddenly found and rested upon something well ahead of us—a something that made both Pawlinson and myself let out an oath.
“The police launch!”
“But it’s headed back to town from Trawly’s Rock!” I cried.
“Well, and why not?” he snapped. “Even a policeman can sometimes fall to the fact that there’s such a thing in this world as a bunk.”