The two brothers looked at Thorndyke, a little daunted by his resolute attitude. “Yes, of course, you are right,” the elder admitted, “and it is only cowardice that makes me shrink from what we have to do. But when I think of what may come up, hanging from those creepers, I—bah! It is too horrible to think of! But I suppose it doesn’t make that sort of impression on you? You don’t find anything repulsive in the quest that we are engaged in?”
“No,” Thorndyke admitted. “My attention is occupied by the scientific and legal interest of the search. But I can fully sympathize with your feelings on the matter. To you Purcell is a real person whom you have known and talked with; to me he is a mere abstraction connected with a very curious and interesting case. The really unpleasant part of that case—to me—will come when we have completed our evidence, if we are so fortunate; I mean when we have to set the criminal law in motion.”
“Yes,” said Phillip, “that will be perfectly beastly.”
Once more silence fell upon the boat, broken only by the throb of the engine and the murmur of the water as it was cloven by the boat’s stem. And meanwhile the distant coast slipped past until they were abreast of the Land’s End and far away to the southwest the solitary lighthouse rose on the verge of the horizon. Soon afterwards they began to overtake the scattered members of a fleet of luggers, some with lowered mainsails and hand-lines down, others with their black sails set, heading for a more distant fishing-ground. Through the midst of them the boat was threading her way when her occupants suddenly became aware that one of the smaller luggers was steering so as to close in. Observing this, the skipper was putting over the helm to avoid her when a seafaring voice from the little craft was heard to hail.
“Motor boat ahoy! Gentleman aboard wants to speak to you.”
The two Rodneys looked at one another in surprise and then at the approaching lugger.
“Who the deuce can it be?” exclaimed Rodney. “But perhaps it is a stranger who wants a passage. If it is, we shall have to refuse. We can’t take any one on board.”
The boat slowed down, for, at a word from the skipper, Joe Tregenna had reversed the propeller. The lugger closed in rapidly, watched anxiously by the two Rodneys and Thorndyke. Suddenly a man appeared standing on the bulwark rail and holding on by the mast stay while with his free hand he held a binocular to his eyes. Nearer and nearer the lugger approached and still the two Rodneys gazed with growing anxiety at the figure on the bulwark. At length the man removed the glasses from his eyes and waved them above his head; and as his face became visible both brothers uttered a cry of amazement.
“God!” exclaimed Phillip. “It’s Varney! Sheer off, skipper! Don’t let him come alongside.”
But it was too late. The boat had lost way and failed to answer her helm. The lugger sheered in, sweeping abreast within a foot; and as she crept past, Varney sprang lightly from her gunwale and dropped on the side bench beside Jack Rodney.