“No, Mr. Dodd, none but what you see,” says the clerk.
“Nor you never heard where he was?”
“No. Any particular reason for finding these men, Mr. Dodd?” inquired the clerk.
“This gentleman and I have bought the wreck,” I explained; “we wished to get some information, and it is very annoying to find the men all gone.”
A certain group had gradually formed about us, for the wreck was still a matter of interest; and at this, one of the bystanders, a rough seafaring man, spoke suddenly.
“I guess the mate won't be gone,” said he. “He's main sick; never left the sick-bay aboard the Tempest; so they tell ME.”
Jim took me by the sleeve. “Back to the consulate,” said he.
But even at the consulate nothing was known of Mr. Goddedaal. The doctor of the Tempest had certified him very sick; he had sent his papers in, but never appeared in person before the authorities.
“Have you a telephone laid on to the Tempest?” asked Pinkerton.
“Laid on yesterday,” said the clerk.