I had never met Pawlinson personally, but his position among us was the byword of efficiency. I glowed to the compliment the chief was indirectly paying me.
“What’s the exact nature of the case?” said I.
“That’s just it,” muttered Garth disgustedly. “What we’ve got to go on is the slimmest ever. Pawlinson’s so cursed secretive that he hasn’t even let out what the fellow’s wanted for.
“Fact is, Pawlinson was here; just this moment gone. You must have passed him coming in. But for all he’s been pretty definitely shaken off the trail, he won’t let out but this much:
“A man answering this description”—here the chief tossed me the usual paper of height, color of hair, et cetera—“arrived off quarantine aboard the Benzobia yesterday at daylight. Pawlinson had one of his men waiting for him when the vessel docked; but in some outlandish way the chap managed to get the skipper to let him go over the side and into a gasoline launch that hove alongside while they were slowing down just abreast of Liberty.
“Now Pawlinson gets kind of hazy as to just what happened directly after that,” continued the chief; “nor does he give me any particulars as to how he ever managed to get a berth as engineer of the little launch. But how he lost the job he told me fully enough; and he sprinkled the narrative with plenty of cuss words. It seems that while the launch was waiting for the fellow at the town dock of Port Washington, Long Island, that——”
“Port Washington!” I cried sharply.
“Why, yes—know the place?” He, of course, couldn’t understand my excitement.
“And do you mean to tell me that it was Pawlinson himself whom I saw that fellow shoot so prettily over the rail with a punch that would do your heart good?” Things were fitting together for me now. But they certainly were not for the chief.
“What the deuce are you talking about, anyway?” he said. “I hadn’t told you about that yet.”