"Did you find the launch?" asked Matt.
"Yes—tied up at Sausalito. No sign of the three men whom you described; but three passengers took a train from Sausalito, in the small hours of the morning, and it may be that they are the fellows we were after. If they were, then they have made good their escape."
"A nice handful of cold fish you're giving us, officer," said McGlory.
"Can't help it," returned the officer. "We did the best we could."
"Who owns that house boat?" asked Matt.
"A gentleman who lives in Oakland. He rents the Griselda for part of the season when he's not using her himself."
"He rented her to that precious outfit of crooks and tinhorns, did he?" struck in McGlory, scrambling into his clothes. "What sort of a gent is that Oakland man, anyway?"
"He's all right," declared the officer. "We talked with him over the phone, a while ago, and told him to send some one to look after the boat. He said he rented the Griselda to a stranger named Higgins, who paid him eighty dollars in advance for a month's rent."
"Higgins!" muttered McGlory. "That's another label for Big John. Wonder how many names Red-whiskers has got?"
"Well," said Matt, "it's too bad, officer, but, as you say, it can't be helped."