It was midnight when Spencer Vance arrived on the coast. He had crossed the bay alone to the outer coast and proceeded toward the cabin of old Tom Pearce.
It was a windy, rainy night, and as disagreeable as could be, and, indeed, it was desolate enough without the roar of the breakers as they lashed themselves upon the beach.
The detective was proceeding along when he was suddenly summoned to a halt.
The detective at once suspected trouble, and his ready hand went to his pocket as a man covered with a rubber coat and slouch hat approached.
"Good-evening, stranger," said the man in the rubber coat.
"Good-evening," was the response.
"Are you acquainted around here?"
"Well, I should say I was a little."
"Do you know a fisherman around here by the name of Pearce?"
"What do you want of Mr. Pearce?"