“Sure. Yes, it’s his yacht, all right,” was the odd reply.
“Is the Professor on board?” asked Mr. Chadwick. “He’s a friend of mine, and if he is in any difficulty we shall be glad to do anything in our power to help him out.”
Again the man hesitated. While they had been flinging questions at him he had been joined by another man, a rough looking specimen, clad in a semi-nautical costume. He now turned to this man and they whispered together for an instant. Then the bristly-moustached man turned to our party.
“The Professor is on board,” he said, “but I don’t know if you can see him.”
“Why not?” demanded Mr. Chadwick crisply, with rising irritation. “You signalled us for aid, we came out here at considerable risk and, in fact, have seriously damaged our craft. If the Professor is on board, I think he owes us an explanation.”
Once more there was a whispered conversation.
“There’s something extremely odd about all this,” said Mr. Chadwick to Jack in an undertone. “I can’t understand it at all. I——”
“The fact is,” broke in the bristly-moustached man, “the Professor has met with an accident. But perhaps you had better come on board and see him for yourselves.”
“I guess that would be the best plan,” said Mr. Chadwick. “Boys, you wait here. I’ll be back before long.”
“I don’t half like the look of this,” muttered Jack. “There’s something here that isn’t all right. Let me go with you.”