The man was dragged unceremoniously from the boat, and stood before the hard-faced sergeant.
“Name?” he snapped.
“Holy Dick,” chuckled the prisoner.
The sergeant peered into his face. At the moment the clouds had obscured the moon.
Was this the man they were waiting for? He made out the gray hair, the smiling, evil eyes. He knew and recognized the features.
The officer struggled with himself for a moment. Then his authority returned.
“You’re under arrest for—running this cargo of liquor,” he said sharply.
Holy Dick’s smile broadened.
“But——”
“If you’re going to make a statement I’m here to listen, but—it’ll be used against you.”