“Of whatever it may chance to prove,” Thorndyke replied, blandly.
“What did you suppose Purcell might have taken with him?” Rodney asked with a trace of irritability in his tone.
“I had thought it possible that there might be some cordage missing and perhaps some iron fittings or other heavy objects. But of course that is mere surmise. My object is, as I have said, to ascertain whether the yacht was in all respects in the same condition when Purcell left her as when he came on board.”
Rodney gave a grunt of impatience; but at this moment Phillip, who had been wrestling with a slightly rusty lock, threw open the door of the workshop and they all entered. Thorndyke looked curiously about the long, narrow interior with its prosaic contents, so little suggestive of the tragedy which his thoughts associated with them. Overhead the yacht’s spars rested on the tie-beams, from which hung bunches of blocks; on the floor reposed a long row of neatly-painted half-hundred weights, a pile of chain cable, two anchors, a stove and other oddments such as water-breakers, buckets, mops, etc.; and on the long benches at the side, folded sails, locker-cushions, side-light lanterns, the binnacle, the cabin lamp and other more delicate fittings. After a long look round, in the course of which his eye travelled along the row of ballast-weights, Thorndyke deposited his case on a bench and asked: “Have you still got the broken jib-halyard that Phillip was telling me about last night?”
“Yes,” answered Rodney, “it is here under the bench.”
He drew out a coil of rope, and, flinging it on the floor began to uncoil it, when it separated into two lengths.
“Which are the broken ends?” asked Thorndyke.
“It broke near the middle,” replied Rodney, “where it chafed on the cleat when the sail was hoisted. This is the one end, you see, frayed out like a brush in breaking, and the other—” He picked up the second half, and passing it rapidly through his hands, held up the end. He did not finish the sentence, but stood, with a frown of surprise, staring at the rope in his hand.
“This is queer,” he said, after a pause. “The broken end has been cut off. Did you cut it off, Phil?”
“No,” replied Phillip; “it is just as I took it from the locker, where, I suppose you or Varney stowed it.”