The boys kept down in the cabin the rest of the day until evening when still another yacht came in, this also painted the same shiny black. It anchored close to the first two, an extremely able-looking “commuter” type cabin cruiser bearing the name Canton on her name boards. The sun was setting by the time supper was over and the boys watched an outboard-motored tender going to the town dock, roaring along.
“Town is the place for us, to-night, John!” Stan said.
“You’re not going to Porpoise Island to-night?”
“No-sirree! Hegarty is likely going ashore with his lieutenants and we’ve got work to do. Get your portable fingerprint outfit and lens ready, and let’s go!”
“Bows and arrows, Skipper?”
“Not this time. We want to appear innocent and we don’t want bows between our legs if we have to skip up an alley or two. How’s for some soda, John?”
John grinned knowingly and they were shortly headed for shore. Quietly, they pulled in, keeping in the darkness, away from the side of the wharf at which they could see the dim, shiny outlines of the tender from the Sea Hawk. They pulled the skiff ashore at the land end of the pier and strolled up to the dock.
A peek round the edge of the piling on the wharf on the other side showed a man sitting in the tender there, waiting.
“No chance to get aboard her yet, John,” Stan said, “so let’s head for the restaurant.”
They entered the restaurant by a side door, unobserved, and were able to slip into their seats quietly. Hegarty had his back to them and none of the men really were faced their way, so the boys hoped to escape suspicion. It was a ticklish moment! They ordered coffee and rolls with bacon, in spite of Stan’s reference to soda.