"He's gone on board," continued the Patrol Leader. "Fed up sort of feeling."
"I don't think Hayes would take it that way," declared Mr. Graham, "or I would not have played a joke upon him. A joke always falls very flat if the victim cannot take it good-temperedly."
Three-quarters of an hour passed. The Sea Scouts were about to return to search for the absent member of the crew when Hayes came into view, running and rather short of breath.
"It's there, sir," he began. "There's no railway station at Dartmouth, but the first fellow I asked—a Scout—told me to go across the harbour to Kingswear. There's a ferry across. The chap in the parcel office told me that your box had come, but he wouldn't let me have it. It has to be claimed by the consignee in person."
"I suppose you're trying to pull my leg?" asked Mr. Graham smilingly.
Hayes looked at him in open-eyed astonishment.
"Pulling your leg, sir," he repeated. "Of course not. I saw the box there—it's a pretty heavy one." The Scoutmaster was puzzled. He had arranged for a package to be sent to Plymouth, to be picked up on the voyage; but, as far as he knew, no one had been instructed to forward it on.
"Well, I suppose I must solve the mystery," he remarked. "You fellows carry on. Have a good old ramble round the Castle. Take your time, provided you are at the quayside at seven."
Making his way back to the town, Mr. Graham crossed the harbour in the Spindrift's dinghy, in order that he might take his parcel straight on board the yacht.
At the station he found that the Sea Scout's statement was correct. There was a large box—about as big as one man could handle—addressed to: W. Graham, Esq., Kingswear Station—To be called for.