"No doubt Loge caught sight of it during the early part of the skirmish, by a flash of lightning," said Dr. Farnsworth, "and acted as you suggest, Mr. Cleggett. But does he believe it to be the box which contains the evidence against him? Or can he, by any chance, be aware of its real contents?" "No matter which," groaned Cleggett, "no matter which! For when he opens it, he will learn what is in it. Don't you see that he has us now? If he offers to trade it back to us for the other oblong box, how can I refuse? If we have his secret, Loge has ours!" But Dr. Farnsworth was not listening. He had suddenly leaned over the port rail and was staring down the canal. The others followed his gaze. The house boat Annabel Lee, they perceived, had got under weigh, and was slowly approaching the Jasper B. in the moonlight. They watched her gradual approach in silence. She stopped within a few yards of the Jasper B., and a voice which Cleggett recognized as that of Wilton Barnstable, the great detective, sang out: "Jasper B., ahoy!" "Aye, aye!" shouted Cleggett. "Is Mr. Cleggett on board?" "He is speaking." "Mr. Cleggett, have you lost anything from your canal boat?" Cleggett did not answer, and for a moment he did not move. Then, tightening his sword belt, and cocking his hat a trifle, he climbed over the starboard rail and walked along the bank of the canal a few yards until he was opposite the Annabel Lee. The great detective, on his part, also stepped ashore. They stood and faced each other in the moonlight, silently, and their followers, also in silence, gathered in the bows of the respective vessels and watched them. Finally, Cleggett, with one hand on his hip, and standing with his feet wide apart, said very incisively: "Sir, the Jasper B. is NOT a canal boat." "Eh?" Wilton Barnstable started at the emphasis. "The Jasper B.," pursued Cleggett, staring steadily at Wilton Barnstable, "is a schooner." "Ah!" said the other. "Indeed?" "A schooner," repeated Cleggett, "indeed, sir! Indeed, sir, a schooner!" There was another silence, in which neither man would look aside; they held each other with their eyes; the nervous strain communicated itself to the crews of the two vessels. At last, however, the detective, although he did not lower his gaze, and although he strove to give his new attitude an effect of ease and jauntiness by twisting the end of his mustache as he spoke, said to Cleggett: "A schooner, then, Mr. Cleggett, a schooner! No offense, I hope?" "None at all," said Cleggett, heartily enough, now that the point had been established. And the tension relaxed on both ships. "You have lost an oblong box, Mr. Cleggett." The great detective affirmed it rather than interrogated. "How did you know that?"