John gave an exclamation of surprise.
“That’s right—Thursday—at midnight!”
“You’d think, Stan, that if any law officer wanted to nip Hegarty, say on his yacht, it would be easy. All they’d have to do would be look up the registry of the boat and see for themselves the owner’s name!”
“Chances are ten to one, Hegarty’s name on the register is spelled quite different——”
“Ears of bantam corn—look!”
Another craft, newly painted in shiny black, had just rounded the point and was moving over towards the Sea Hawk! Low, fast-appearing, the strange yacht was of cabin type, like many other craft of her kind, but to the boys, her appearance at that spot and at that time, spelled more trouble! They could not be far wrong for, before she had come completely at rest with her anchor down, a boat was seen to row off from her to the bigger craft.
“Me for my binoculars!” cried Stan, and pounced below.
Afterwards, from low in the cockpit, he reported that he could see activity on the deck of the Sea Hawk—men moving about and all seeming to talk with their hands! An argument seemed in progress but it apparently ended amicably, for everyone shook hands and the rowboat went back to the newer boat.
“What’s the name of that boat, Stan?” John asked.
The G-man’s son hesitated a moment then said, “Looks like—‘Malcon’ to me, John.”