“Neither of these detectives, so I heard--the steward talked with them--has ever seen the man. But they have a good description of him, a very good description. Short inclined to be chubby--though possibly he’s thinned out some since he became a fugitive--blue eyes, dark brown hair. Somewhat resourceful, they say. Passed himself as a waiter and got passage on a government transport to Guam. Pretended to be a discharged marine at Guam and shipped with a pearl pirate for Yap. At Yap he became a planter and doubled back to Langar. They don’t know what he told the trader, but they know this trader never makes anything but little islands out of touch with the world. They figure that they have their prize this time. Haven’t seen anybody of his description, have you?” Billy came very nearly to saying yes; but what would be the use? In normal spirits he would have told the Captain that the description fitted himself--the Captain--pretty closely. But Billy was in no mood for humor. “I am telling you all this so that in case you ever run across the fellow you can send word to Langar. Quite a reward for him, I understand. The detectives are waiting there. They heard the _Petrel_ was cruising about, and asked the steward to notify everybody on board. They are very impatient. I am sure if they got wind of where the fellow was they would hire a schooner and go for him.” “Can’t arrest him without the consent of German authorities, can they?” Billy inquired. “Not properly, of course. But they can smuggle him out. Once they get their hands on him they will not stop to ask questions until they get to New York. This fellow is so resourceful and tricky that they won’t give him half a chance to make trouble for them.” Billy did not answer. He was beginning to feel a kind of companionable sympathy for the lizards that he and Tomlin caught and smothered in chloroform before “picklin’ ’em.” No matter where he went he felt that he never appreciably increased the distance between himself and 240 Centre Street, New York--Police Headquarters. But Billy wasn’t the only one who was having troubles. Lorraine and Tomlin came walking toward the beach, and a blind man could tell that neither of them was happy. The Captain, not being blind, appeared perky and pleased. “Aren’t you coming to see mother?” she asked wistfully as she got into the boat. Perhaps she was too proud to ask him to come on her own account. “To-morrow, Lorraine. To-morrow,” he said in an empty voice that showed he scarcely knew what he was saying. “To-morrow!” she said, not without a touch of anger. Then to Billy, “Mr. Rand, will you come and have dinner with me--now!” “I sure am delighted!” said Billy, and without looking toward the reproachful eyes of Tomlin or the glaring eyes of the Captain, he climbed into the boat, and gave all of his attention to Lorraine’s.