After wandering through the streets of Dartmouth and viewing the old-style half-timbered houses of the Butterwalk, the crew of the Spindrift made their way towards the castle.
They had not gone very far when Mr. Graham touched Hayes on the shoulder.
"Just run over to Dartmouth railway station and see if there's a parcel for me, please," he said. "We'll wait here till you get back. Be as sharp as you can."
Hayes hurried off on his errand. When he was out of sight, Mr. Graham laughed.
"It's a little joke," he explained to the others. "There isn't a railway station at Dartmouth. Kingswear, across the harbour, is the terminus for Dartmouth passengers. It will be rather curious to know how Hayes progresses in his search for something that doesn't exist."
"Are you expecting a parcel at Kingswear station, sir?" asked Findlay.
"No, I'm not," replied Mr. Graham, enjoying the joke immensely. "We'll sit down by the side of the river and wait for developments."
Ten minutes passed—twenty—then half an hour. The Scoutmaster began to wonder what had happened to his messenger.
"Perhaps he's found out you are pulling his leg, sir," suggested Desmond.
"And then?"