“What’s that thing doing?” Reggie pointed to a long low black craft near the Nore.
“Run down to her, will you? How does one address the Navy, Bell? I feel shy. Ask him if he’s the duty destroyer of the Nore Command, will you?”
The captain of the launch hailed. “Duty destroyer, sir?”
“Aye, aye. Scotland Yard launch? Come alongside.”
“Thank God for the Navy, as the soldier said,” Mr. Fortune murmured. “Perhaps it will be warmer on board her.”
“I say, sir, did you order a destroyer out?”
“Oh, I asked Lomas to turn out the Navy. I thought we might want ’em.”
Superintendent Bell gazed at him. “And you say you forget things,” he said. “Witt’s shot and all in a minute you have all this in your head.”
They climbed a most unpleasant ladder. A young lieutenant received them. “You gentlemen got a job of work for us?”
“A motor yacht, cutter rig, name _Cyrilla_, left Gravesend an hour or two ago, probably making for the Dutch coast. There’s a man on board that’s badly wanted.”
“Can do,” the lieutenant smiled and ran up to the bridge. “Starboard five. Half ahead both.” He spoke into a voice pipe. “You’d better come up here,” he called to them. “We’ll whack her up as we go.”
The destroyer began to quiver gently to the purr of the turbines. Reggie cowered under the wind screen. The speed grew and grew and the destroyer sat down on her stern and on either side white waves rushed from the high sharp bow. “Who is your friend on the yacht?” the lieutenant smiled.
“His last is attempted murder. But that was only this morning.”
“You fellows don’t lose much time,” said the lieutenant with more respect. “You seem to want him bad.”
“I could bear to see him,” said Reggie. “He interests me as a medical man.”
“Quite a lot of crime is medical,” said Reggie.
The lieutenant gave it up and again asked for more speed and began to use his binoculars. “There’s a cutter rig,” he pointed at something invisible. “Not under sail. Laying a course for Flushing. That’s good enough, what?”
The destroyer came up fast. A white hull was revealed to the naked eye. The lieutenant spoke to his signalman and flags fluttered above the bridge. “Not answered. D’ye think your friend’ll put up a scrap?”
“I dare say he will, if his crew will stand for it.”