“Yes. We 'll wait here. You 'll have to hurry with it. We can't stay here more than ten minutes longer.” Wilson was out of the room at a bound, down the steps and across the beach and running out on the long pier. In five minutes he was back. “Well--” “Not a soul there.” “How many men did he have aboard? Do you know, Cap'n?” “Only one or two, I guess, besides Mc-Glory.” “They've gone along, of course. The only question is, did they take him with 'em?” “How could they?” said Wilson. “He is a strong man, and there wasn't any sound of a scuffle. No, if there had been anything like that, I should have heard it.” “I 'll tell you what I think,” said Fargo. “It isn't what I think, either; but it keeps coming up in my mind. He didn't seem quite himself when he was talking to me.” “How--nervous?” “Oh, no, but kind of depressed. He never says a lot, but then he isn't generally blue like he certainly was to-night. He talked about McGlory, too.” “What did he say about him?” asked Beveridge sharply. “He said that McGlory and Dick had disagreed, and Dick had ordered him off his schooner, and he had taken him in for the night. McGlory, he said, was so ugly there was no getting on with him. He had sort of made an errand up-town so he could get away and cool down a little. I guess he felt so glum himself he was afraid to trust himself with a man that acted like McGlory was acting.” Beveridge was standing by the door, ready to start, watching the Captain closely during this speech. Now a look of intelligence came to his face. “How are Henry Smiley's affairs--money and that sort of thing?” he asked. “Oh, all right, I think. He has always been saving. He must have a neat little pile tucked away by this time.” “And he wasn't married, or--” Beveridge paused. “Not Henry. No, he was a woman-hater, pretty nearly.” “Was he pessimistic--kind of down on things? Did he have any particular object in living--anything to work for specially?” “He was pessimistic, all right. Didn't believe in much of anything. I--I know what you're thinking, Mr. Beveridge, but I--I can't hardly think it's possible. I don't know, though, I guess his schooner was about the only thing he cared for, except maybe Dick here.” “Oh, fond of his cousin, was he?” “Yes, I think you could say he was that.” “Had you dropped him any hint of what I told you?” “Well, now you speak of it, I don't know but what maybe I did let him see that I was a little worried about Dick.” Beveridge nodded. “I can't wait any longer. Come, Bert. You, I suppose,” turning to Dick and Pink, “will come along without any trouble?” “Certainly,” said Dick. “Good-by, Captain--and say, by the way, Captain, if I were you, I would send right up to the life-saving station and have them set a few men to dragging out there.” “Do you really believe that--” Beveridge nodded. “If he is found anywhere, it will be within fifty feet of the pier. Good-by. Come, Bert.”