One move after another passed through Matt's mind, only to be rejected and cast aside.
There was a window in the starboard wall directly back of the place where the red-whiskered man was sitting. In seeking to gain the starboard alley, Matt had had that window prominently in mind. But what he could do when he reached that window had not yet occurred to him. Any move on that part of the deck was out of the question, so long as the man occupied the chair.
The king of the motor boys, usually so resourceful in expedients, could think of nothing, at that moment, that pointed the way to possible success in the matter of the satchel. The only ruse that suggested itself was to have McGlory and Ping start some sort of a row that would draw the three men out of the cabin, thus affording Matt a chance to run in through a door, or climb in at a window, and secure the grip. But this plan had many disadvantages—for what would it avail Matt, or Lorry, if he was to secure the satchel and then be left on the house boat with it, at the mercy of the red-whiskered man and his two pals?
A talk with McGlory was advisable, in the circumstances, and Matt began crawling across the after deck of the house boat toward the San Bruno.
Before he had covered half the distance that separated him from the edge of the house boat's deck his knee rested heavily on some hard object attached to the boards. It proved to be an iron ring, made fast in a hatch cover.
Instantly the young motorist's plans underwent a change. He would not leave the house boat just yet, but would open the hatch, drop below and explore the lower part of the boat. If there was another hatch leading up under the part of the cabin where the three men were holding their secret session, then fortune might point a way for something worth while.
The hatch cover was hinged. Softly Matt lifted the trap and threw it back; then, letting himself down into the scowlike hulk, he lifted the hatch again and cautiously lowered it.