The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

“I have telegraphed or telephoned men fromour agency, so that many points are coveredfor some distance north along the coast,” murmuredMr. Musgrave. “We are also havingthe islands watched as far around as BlockIsland. But, since the launch was found runningwild and the cabin sloop was not sighted,I am inclined to believe that the trail runs somewhereon the mainland. If you’ll take yourfriend, Joe Dawson, along with you, I’ll sendalso one of the Wood’s Hole constables, a mannamed Jennison. If you run into any of thatcrew, Jennison has power to make arrests, andhe’s the sort of man who wouldn’t back downbefore a cannon. I have an automobile ready, and Jennison knows what’s expected of him.You’re to search up along the coast, to see ifyou can find any trace of that cabin sloop.”

“Do you think Jed Prentiss will be sufficientguard to leave with the boat?” questioned Halstead.“The Alvarez crowd would like nothingbetter than to disable this fine craft if theygot a chance to sneak aboard.”

“I’ll send down one of the hotel employés tokeep Prentiss company, then. Now come along,Halstead. Jennison and the automobile arewaiting.”

Two minutes later Tom and Joe found themselvesspeeding along a road that led up alongthe coast.

“There’s no use stopping the first mile or so,”explained Constable Jennison, a slight but wiry-lookingman of rustic type. “We’ve been overthe near ground already. But we’ll go fortymiles or more before we give up the search forthe home berth of that sloop.”

Just below Falmouth the auto-car turnedfrom the road to run down to a cove whereseveral sailing craft and two launches were atanchor. The owner was found. He did notown or know of any such sloop as Halstead described.

On again they went. There was a chauffeuron the front seat The constable and the boyswere in the tonneau. Two more boat-letting resortswere visited, but without success. The constable, however, far from being depressed, becamejovial.

“Are you armed, Halstead?” he inquired, atwinkle in his eyes.

“No; I have no use for boys that carryguns,” replied Tom.

“You’re sensible enough,” responded theconstable seriously. Then, resuming his banteringtone, he went on:

“But you ought to be ready for anything to-night.Here, put this in your pocket.”

“What’s this thing supposed to be good for?”Tom demanded dryly, as he took from the officera cheap little bronze toy pistol. It was modeledafter a business-like revolver, but a glanceshowed that it was meant only to explode papercaps.

“It belongs to my five-year-old boy,” laughedJennison. “He knows that I often carry apistol and he doesn’t know the difference betweena real one and his Fourth of July toy.So to-night, when I was leaving the house, heinsisted on my taking his pistol and I had toin order to keep him quiet.”

“It looks dangerous enough in the dark,” remarkedJoe, bending over and taking the“weapon” with a laugh. He looked it over, then returned it to Tom, who, in turn, offeredit to the officer.

“Drop it in your pocket,” said the latter. “Itought to make you feel braver to feel such athing next to your body.”

With a laugh Tom did as urged. The automobilesoon made another stop at a boatyard.Here, again, the search was useless, so they kepton. A fourth was visited with no better result.They were now ten miles from Wood’s Hole, butthey kept on. A mile further on the car descendeda low hill, toward the water, then turnedalmost at right angles. Just as they roundedthis bend in the road Halstead leaned suddenlyforward.

“Stop!” he called to the chauffeur.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jennison, as thecar halted.

“As we came around the bend the searchlightthrew a ray between the trees, and I’m sureI saw a cabin sloop down in the offing,” Tomexplained.

“I didn’t see it.”

“And I got only a brief glimpse,” Halsteadrejoined. “But don’t you think it’s worth ourwhile to get out and go down to the water’sedge?”

“Of course,” nodded the constable. Thethree piled out of the tonneau, leaving the chauffeuralone. Tom led the way, going straightbetween the trees down to the water.

“That’s the very sloop, I’d almost swear,”whispered Tom, pointing to a craft at anchora hundred yards or so from shore. A smallboat lay hauled up on the beach. Not far fromwhere the three stood was a ramshackle littleshanty from which no light shone.

“We’ll give our attention to the house, first,”declared the constable. Accordingly theystepped up to the door, Jennison knockingloudly. From inside came a snore. The summonshad to be repeated before a voice insidedemanded:

“Who’s there? What’s wanted?”

“A traveler who wants to speak with you,”replied the officer.

There were sounds inside. Then the dooropened. They were confronted by a white-hairedold man, partly dressed and holding alighted lantern. He made a venerable pictureas he stood there in the doorway.

“Well?” he asked.

“That’s your sloop out in the offing?” Jennisonasked.

“Yes.”

“Did you use her to-day?”

“No; I rented her to a stranger, who wantedto go fishing. I didn’t know he had returned.Said he might be out most of the night, and thesloop wasn’t back when I turned in at dark.”

“Wasn’t, eh?” asked the constable, with quickinterest. “Now will you tell me what thestranger looked like?”

“Why, he was about forty-five, I guess.Rather heavily built. His skin was well-bronzed – ”

“That’s the man, French,” whispered Tom, nudging the officer. “His face had been staineda good bronze color.”

“Did the stranger give any word about comingback at some other time?” asked Jennison.

“No; he paid me for the afternoon and theevening,” replied the old man. It was plainthat he had told all he knew about the stranger.The old man stated that he himself was a fisherman, but that in summer he often made moremoney taking out parties of summer boarders.

Joe, in the meantime, had gone down to thebeach to watch the sloop. There appeared tobe no one stirring aboard the craft, but, as aprecaution, Jennison and the boys rowed out, thus making sure that the sloop was deserted.They hurriedly returned to shore. Jennisonnow displayed his badge, asking permission tolook into the shanty. The old man readily gavethe permission, adding, somewhat shakily:

“I’m not used to having my house suspected, but I’m glad to give the law’s officer any privilegeshe may want here.”

The search was unavailing. Jennison and hisyoung companions hastened back to the automobilewhere they stood deliberating.

“That sloop has come in since dark,” observedHalstead. “That old man looks asthough he could be thoroughly believed. Yetthat’s the very sloop. I’m positive about that.So the rascals can’t have had much the start ofus.”

“They’re a needle in the haystack, now, anyway,”sighed Constable Jennison. “We’re atthe end of the water trail and we know wherethey landed.”

“But we also know that they’re on the mainland;at least it looks mighty certain,” suggestedTom Halstead.

“That’s true,” nodded the officer. “Well,Mr. Musgrave must know of this at once. Thenext village is less than three miles away. I’mgoing there in the auto as fast as I can andtelephone him.”

“You’ll come back this way?” hinted Tom.

“Yes, without a doubt.”

“Then leave us here. We’ll hunt for anysigns we can find of them while you’re gone.”

“But how’ll I find you on my return?”

“Why, if you stop here, and honk your horntwice, we’ll come running to you.”

“You might run into the rascals,” mused Jennison.