“Well,” said Fitzhugh, “we’ll get the police on their track, and I’ll telephone down to Gosport to have the people there keep an eye out for that fishing-boat. And now won’t you come in and let me offer you some refreshments? Master Ben will want to change his clothes before he sets out in his racing-car.”
While the others were in the dining-room Ben exchanged his doublet and hose for his everyday garb. Then he went to the garage and got out the little car he had borrowed from his uncle in Barmouth. It clattered up to the front door and a few minutes later Fitzhugh was saying good-night to Tuckerman, Perkins and the boys.
David got into Ben’s car. The car from Camp Amoussock moved off along the driveway. Roderick Fitzhugh came up to Ben, who was starting his engine. “I regret that Mr. Joseph Hastings wasn’t at home,” he said, “so that you could have learned whether he did lose a silver snuff-box on Cotterell’s Island. I’ll ask him when I see him.”
Ben grinned. “I’d almost forgotten about the snuff-box,” he answered, “but I think you’ll find when you ask Mr. Hastings that he did lose it there.”
“You’re a bright fellow, Master Sully.”
Fitzhugh gave a wink. “Don’t tell all you know. And if you’re in the neighborhood any time come in and see Joseph Hastings.”
The little car rattled away, following the tail-light of the other automobile.
“Who is that man?” asked David, as they turned into the highroad.
“Do you mean Mr. Roderick Fitzhugh?” inquired Ben innocently.
“Chuck it, Benjie. That isn’t his real name.”