“What’s the matter?” asked Jennison, as the car halted.
“As we came around the bend the searchlight threw a ray between the trees, and I’m sure I saw a cabin sloop down in the offing,” Tom explained.
“And I got only a brief glimpse,” Halstead rejoined. “But don’t you think it’s worth our while to get out and go down to the water’s edge?”
“Of course,” nodded the constable. The three piled out of the tonneau, leaving the chauffeur alone. Tom led the way, going straight between the trees down to the water.
“That’s the very sloop, I’d almost swear,” whispered Tom, pointing to a craft at anchor a hundred yards or so from shore. A small boat lay hauled up on the beach. Not far from where the three stood was a ramshackle little shanty from which no light shone.
“We’ll give our attention to the house, first,” declared the constable. Accordingly they stepped up to the door, Jennison knocking loudly. From inside came a snore. The summons had to be repeated before a voice inside demanded:
“A traveler who wants to speak with you,” replied the officer.
There were sounds inside. Then the door opened. They were confronted by a white-haired old man, partly dressed and holding a lighted lantern. He made a venerable picture as he stood there in the doorway.
“That’s your sloop out in the offing?” Jennison asked.
“No; I rented her to a stranger, who wanted to go fishing. I didn’t know he had returned. Said he might be out most of the night, and the sloop wasn’t back when I turned in at dark.”
“Wasn’t, eh?” asked the constable, with quick interest. “Now will you tell me what the stranger 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 stained a good bronze color.”
“Did the stranger give any word about coming back at some other time?” asked Jennison.
“No; he paid me for the afternoon and the evening,” replied the old man. It was plain that 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 more money taking out parties of summer boarders.
Joe, in the meantime, had gone down to the beach to watch the sloop. There appeared to be no one stirring aboard the craft, but, as a precaution, Jennison and the boys rowed out, thus making sure that the sloop was deserted. They hurriedly returned to shore. Jennison now displayed his badge, asking permission to look into the shanty. The old man readily gave the permission, adding, somewhat shakily: