"He sailed on the Santa Maria this mornin'," was the startling announcement.
The captain jumped to his feet.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, staring at Clackett in blank amazement.
"It's a fact, cap'n," asserted Clackett. "I got it straight from the hotel feller that seen Matt and his friends aboard the boat. There's been queer doin's, somehow."
"What do you mean by queer doings?" asked the captain sharply.
"Well, cap'n, this is the way that hotel feller handed it out to me: Ysabel Sixty, the ole filibuster's gal, called at the Snug Harbor about nine-thirty, this mornin', and had a short talk with Motor Matt. When the girl went away, Motor Matt settled his hotel bill, rounded up his friends and they all stampeded upstairs to git their baggage together. Then they flocked down and hustled for the Santa Maria. The hotel feller went with 'em, helpin' tote their traps."
The captain stared in bewilderment, his amazement growing as he listened.
"There's underhand work of some kind here," he muttered. "Motor Matt would never have gone off like that without telling me something about it."
"He tried to git you over the telephone, but the line was busy and he didn't have no time to wait."