"I will go with you," added Captain Patterdale; "and we will take the Sea Foam." Donald was permitted to go home and comfort his mother with the assurance that he was entirely innocent of the crime with which he was charged; and great was the joy of his mother and sister. The mainsail of the Sea Foam was hoisted when he went on board. The wind was rather light, and it was midnight before the yacht anchored off Turtle Head. The party went ashore in the tender, the sheriff carrying a lantern and a shovel. Donald readily found the place where the earth had been disturbed by Laud's clam-digger. Mr. Beardsley dug till he came to a rock, and it was plain that no tin box was there. "But I am sure that Laud had been digging here, for I saw the print of his clam-digger," said Donald. "This hole had been dug before," added the sheriff. "Even Laud Cavendish would not be fool enough to bury the box in such an exposed place as this," suggested Captain Patterdale. "I know he came down here on the day the box was stolen," said Donald, "and that he was here with his clam-digger on the day I met Captain Shivernock. He must have put those papers in the shop." "If the box was ever buried here, it has been removed," added the captain. "Just look at the dirt which came out of the hole," continued Mr. Beardsley, pointing to the heap, and holding the lantern over it. "What I threw out last is beach gravel. That was put in to fill up the hole after he had taken out the box. When he first buried it, he had to carry off some of the yellow loam. In my opinion, the box has been here." "It is not here now, and we may as well return," replied Captain Patterdale. "I am really more desirous of finding the papers in the box than the money." "He has only chosen a new hiding-place for it," said the sheriff. "If we say nothing, and keep an eye on him for a few days, we may find it." As this was all that could be done, the party returned to the city; and early in the morning Donald went to bed, to obtain the rest he needed before the great day. Possibly Mr. Beardsley slept some that night, though it is certain he was at Saturday Cove, in Northport, the next forenoon. He had a "theory;" and when a man has a theory, he will sometimes go without his sleep in order to prove its truth or its falsity. Jacob Hasbrook was with him, and quite as much interested in the theory as the officer, who desired to vindicate his reputation as a detective. He had driven to the house of the victim of the outrage, and looked the matter over again in the light of the evidence obtained from the boat-builder. [Illustration: MORE EVIDENCE. Page 299.] "I have been trying to see Donald Ramsay," said Hasbrook. "I have been to his shop four times, but he's always off on some boat scrape. You say he saw Captain Shivernock the next morning."