Hallins shot Pawlinson another swift glance, a puzzled one, before he replied:
“You mean the wire about the schooner, Mr. Pawlinson?”
“Naturally; since it was the only one I sent,” drawled the Washington detective in that sarcasm which I now saw was not for me alone. “Did she arrive in Portland Harbor to-day?”
“Yes,” replied Sergeant Hallins. “The schooner Ruby Light arrived here shortly after dawn, and dropped her hook off Orr’s Island, as usual.”
There was a distinct hesitancy, coupled to what was almost bewilderment, in Hallins’ tone.
“And you have kept note of her movements to-day?”
I could see the imperiousness of the tone grated upon Hallins as much as it had upon me; but he replied civilly enough:
“One of my men in the rôle of a bumboatman was on her decks for upward of an hour. It seems that she is fitting out for a rather longer run than usual.”
“Ah!” grunted Pawlinson sharply. “And she sails—when?”
“That he was not exactly able to gather; for the boatswain, a decidedly uncommunicative chap, had to be handled softly.”