"You're the men who captured the Grampus in the Inlet at Atlantic City, are you?" queried Matt.
"Don't talk with him, men," said one of the prisoners sharply to the others. "Whatever you say he'll use against you. Jest remember that and keep mum."
"Did you go to Atlantic City with Jurgens' moving-picture outfit?" Matt went on.
"Mebby we did an' mebby we didn't," answered the fellow who had arrogated to himself the post of spokesman. "We ain't tellin' anything we know an' you ain't findin' anything out, see? Take a sneak and leave us alone. You've raised hob with us and that ought to satisfy you."
"Have you any idea what became of Jurgens and Whistler?" Matt went on. "We captured them and left them on the island, but they vanished mysteriously, leaving you three men to bear the consequences of the lawless work Jurgens set on foot."
"We don't know anything about where Jurgens an' Whistler have gone," replied the prisoner. "If they've fooled you, I'm mighty glad of it."
That was all the satisfaction Matt could get. The escape of Jurgens and Whistler was bothering him not a little, and it was past his comprehension how the two men could have made such a complete get-away from the island.
As they themselves were the only ones who could explain it, the manner in which the coup had been accomplished seemed likely to always remain a mystery.
The Grampus was five hours making the trip across Florida Straits. When she tied up off Palm Beach it was midnight, and Matt, Dick and Carl bunked aboard the craft and went ashore in the morning with Cassidy to pay their respects to Townsend.