The head porter grinned as he said this, and in the faint light that came from the cloud-veiled moon Nick returned the grin. He was pleased to note that Mike Corrigan was of an observant kind. “You’re not far off, Mike. I see there is a place here where a boat has landed, and it is just possible another one may come. See those furrows in the sand above tide line on the beach, and do you notice that those soft shells have been ground by something, and left, all broken, where they have been pressed into the sand?” “That’s right,” agreed Mike. “I see it, just where the moon strikes. But I’ll confess I wouldn’t have noticed them if you hadn’t spoke--not in this poor light. Think that was done by a boat?” “I am sure of it,” was Nick’s quick reply. “It was the keel of a boat that ground these shells, and the round bottom made the wide mark on either side. It isn’t hard to see where a boat has been before the signs are washed away.” “I don’t see any other place where a boat could be run up on the shore, either,” observed Mike. “That’s why I am expecting we shall see another boat--or perhaps the same one--come up here, if we stay for a while. But get back into the woods. We can watch there without being seen.” “The moon is in its last quarter,” remarked Corrigan. “So there isn’t much light. If it wasn’t for the stars, I don’t think we could make out anything at all.” “We’ll get to the other side of this point,” went on Nick. “We can see all over the bay from there, and still not be too conspicuous.” “‘Conspicuous’ is good!” muttered Mike. “I wonder what in thunder it means.” Nick Carter led the way to the spot he had selected. It was a thick mass of shrubbery only a few yards above high tide. Here he told Corrigan to sit down. The porter obeyed--so heavily that he broke several twigs, which crackled with much more noise than Nick cared for. He gave Mike a sharp touch with the toe of his shoe. The detective had seen some signs which had escaped his companion, and he did not want any noise. Nick subsided. Nick took out a pair of powerful night glasses and trained them on the light-studded yacht far out in the bay. It was something about this yacht which had attracted his attention in the first place, and which had caused him to shut off the porter so peremptorily when he had begun to protest against being gently kicked. Nick Carter lay flat upon the ground, examining the shadowy form of the yacht, and trying to satisfy himself as to the meaning of certain movements he observed. It was a full hour before he moved to any noticeable degree, although he had shifted his position now and then, as he sought to relieve his cramped limbs. But his night glasses had been always fixed on the yacht, and his eyes had become accustomed to the gloom so much that he could tell fairly well what the general state of affairs was on her deck.