“Now, you fellows,” he said in a low voice, addressing Craddock and Carline, “I want you to keep a sharp look-out on the back of the cottage. Take cover, and keep your eyes and ears on the alert.”
“And if he shows up, sir, do we tackle him?” asked Peter.
“Rather not; that’s a job for the police. I’ll look you up occasionally. I’ll see what Brandon and Heavitree are doing.”
Before rejoining the Sea Scouts posted in concealment in the front of the building, Mr. Grant examined the front door. Here, as in the case of the back entrance, the presence of an undisturbed spider’s web gave conclusive proof that Blueskin had not entered the cottage by that means. Since he could not do so through the barred windows, the inference was that he was still away.
For the rest of the hours of darkness, the Scoutmaster divided his time between the Kestrel and the two observation posts. Everything seemed quiet. No sound came from either within or without the darkened cottage. If Carlo Bone were to return, it seemed probable that he would do so before dawn in order to avoid recognition from any of the early risers of the hamlet.
At length grey dawn paled in the north-eastern sky. The birds began singing, cocks crowed. The mist over the creek drifted slowly in the faint air-currents. In one of the cottages smoke began to issue from the squat stone chimney.
At sunrise the Scoutmaster withdrew his observers, replacing Craddock and Heavitree by Symington and Talbot. Wilson took Carline’s place, but Craddock asked to be allowed to remain.
From the cottages men went forth unto their work and to their labour. On the rising tide the fishing boats put out. By five o’clock the whole place was astir.
Mr. Grant was frankly disappointed. The only result of the Sea Scouts’ vigil was, in his opinion, that they had proved that Carlo Bone had not returned to his cottage.
“It’s no use waiting any longer, lads,” he said. “We’ll get breakfast—you must all be ravenous—and then I’ll see the police.”