The imperative manner of this man from police headquarters, New York, awed Captain Bill Lawton, in spite of himself, and he prepared to tell anything that might be asked of him.
“All right, lieutenant,” he grunted.
“Have you a passenger on board named Miles?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“In his stateroom, I believe. He went in there a while ago, and I have not seen him on deck since.”
“Is he a young man, who looks as if he might be a sort of society darling—plenty of money and nothing to do but to blow it in?”
“That fits him.”
“Tall, rather light-brown hair, gray eyes, and straight nose?”
“That’s a photograph of him,” replied Lawton. “You’ve got his description all right. What about him?”