The throbbing had stopped, the door of the inn was closed, and there was no sign of anyone lurking in the darkness. Gowrie stole forward, trying to find the place where Mrs. Narby had been digging. Suddenly he stumbled over a pile of fresh-turned earth, and came down on his hands. If the notes were hereabouts they would certainly be in a box, and with this idea in his head, he groped with his hands in the hole. For some time he was unsuccessful, and his hands became caked with mud. Again and again he raked the earth, but could feel nothing but the red, moist clay. The rain still continued to fall, and he was soaked to the skin. All the same, he continued searching, breathing heavily, and occasionally muttering to himself in words which certainly did not invoke blessings on Mrs. Narby's head. Unexpectedly a thin beam of electric light shot over his head, and, as he started in terror, it was lowered, until he knelt in a stream of radiance. It came, as he could dimly see, from a boat on the low waters of the creek, which was moving inshore. From the deck he certainly could be seen easily, and as he was about to rise and fly, he heard an exclamation of surprise and a fierce oath. All at once, a man, followed by two others, sprang from the boat, and made for the shore. Unnerved with whisky and by this strange experience, Gowrie rose to make for the inn, but stumbled and fell again. The next moment he was in the grasp of strong rough hands, and in his terror--natural enough under the circumstances--he fainted. CHAPTER XXI ON BOARD THE YACHT Being old and enfeebled by incessant doses of whisky, Gowrie remained unconscious for a long time. How many hours had passed since he had been seized in the back garden of the "Marsh Inn," he did not know, but when he opened his eyes and came to himself he found that he was in a luxuriously furnished room. Later, when his brain became clearer, and he was better able to take in his surroundings, he perceived, by the decorations of the place, and from a certain heaving sensation that he was in the state room of a vessel. From the ornate decorations and costly furniture, it looked more like a boudoir than a cabin. Then he remembered what Kind had reported concerning the splendours of the "Tarabacca," and realised, with some dismay, that he was on board that very boat. This belief was confirmed, when he beheld seated before him Captain Bruce Kyles in a gold-laced uniform. As Gowrie struggled into a sitting position,--he had been dropped unconscious on the divan running round the cabin,--Kyles, whose brilliant black eyes were fixed mockingly on him, laughed in a provoking manner. He pointed to a bottle of whisky and a glass, which stood on the table. "Take a drink, Mr. Gowrie," said the Captain, encouragingly, "and don't look so terrified. I mean to do you no harm." "Nae harrum," quavered the old man, trying to steady his shaken nerves, "are ye nae ashamed tae treat me sae? What the deil dae ye mean?"