“Blessed if I can guess what the lad means, friend,” said one of the rough pair to the other.
But Captain Tom Halstead, as he leaped back aboard the “Rocket,” and turned to them with flashing eyes, retorted gamely:
“I’m planning to have the pleasure, mighty soon, of showing you the value of the last laugh!”
AS soon as the “Rocket” had fallen away from the mocking strangers and was heading back at nearly full speed for the Long Island coast, Eben Moddridge came almost totteringly on deck.
“Poor Frank Delavan wasn’t aboard that other boat,” he groaned.
“No,” answered Halstead, trying hard to keep his disapproval of the other’s cowardice from sounding in his voice.
“Then, good heavens! We must get back to East Hampton without loss of a moment,” cried the owner’s friend.
“Don’t you think we’ll do a lot better to hustle back to Cookson’s Bay?” demanded the young skipper. “We all of us know, as well as we need to, that Mr. Delavan was aboard that racing boat this morning, so we must agree that Mr. Delavan was carried ashore while that other craft had the island between us and them. We’re out to find Mr. Delavan, aren’t we? If we are, sir, the trail starts from Cookson’s Bay.”
“But there are other matters you don’t understand,” replied Moddridge, nervously. “Both Delavan and I have interests at work in Wall Street. Those interests involve many millions of dollars. While I was hoping every minute to come up with Frank Delavan, the chase seemed to me to be the main thing. But I should have been in East Hampton hours ago, to answer frantic appeals for instructions that must have been coming in over the long distance telephone.”
“Then do you instruct me, sir, to head for East Hampton, and leave Mr. Delavan to take his chances in the hands of rascals?”
“Don’t—don’t put it in that way,” begged Mr. Moddridge, shivering.
“Unfortunately, sir, I don’t see any other way to put the question,” young Halstead answered.
Eben Moddridge wavered, thinking it all over in an evident frenzy. While he was thus pondering Captain Tom was heading straight in for where he knew Cookson’s Inlet to be.
“It’s—it’s—bad either way,” Moddridge finally confessed. “If I delay in reaching the telephone Frank and I may lose millions through some unfortunate turn in Wall Street. And, on the other hand, if poor Frank has vanished, perhaps never to turn up again, he and I may both be ruined in the money world.”