Lying inertly on the pavement with his head touching the base of a lamp-post was the luckless driver of the car, stunned and considerably cut about the head by the broken glass of the windscreen.
Deftly the Sea Scouts rendered First Aid, then, detaching the tailboard of the lorry, they placed the injured man upon it and carried him to the hospital, which was only about a hundred yards from the scene of the accident.
Having furnished the police inspector with the required information they accompanied Mr. Grant back to the harbour.
Day was breaking by the time the now weary-eyed but excited lads had completed their task of mooring up their boat, and at the Scoutmaster's invitation they went back to his house for a very early breakfast.
"That fellow who got smashed up," said Peter during the course of the meal, "was the one who spoke to me while I was fishing on the pier yesterday—or, rather, the day before yesterday."
"Then that was what aroused your suspicions," remarked Mr. Grant.
Craddock shook his head.
"No, sir," he replied. "I never connected the two until an hour ago. He pumped me properly, though. Asked particulars about you and all that. I can see it now."
"Then what did?" persisted Mr. Grant.
"The letter, sir, that was supposed to have been written by you."