"Be reasonable now," said the man with the gun. "I have to catch that train, or I'll miss the wedding. I can't let you bring me back to the village. My friends would never let me hear the end of that joke. It's just by luck I had this revolver in my pocket--but still, if you turn this boat around, I'll use it." He was trying to pass the affair off as more or less of a joke but there was no mistaking the steely glint in his eyes or the hardness of his voice. Frank looked at his brother, and shrugged. "I guess there's nothing else for it but bring him to Bayport," he muttered. "I don't want to get shot." "That gun looks bad," agreed Joe. "There's not much joking about that part of it." Frank bore down on the wheel and corrected the course of the boat so that they were soon bound directly for Bayport again. "We'll take you to the city," he said to the stranger, "but I'm going to warn you that we'll turn you over to the police if we get a chance. That's a dangerous game you're playing, even if you say it is only a joke. It's a hold up." "You'll think differently after we reach Bayport," promised the man. "I'll have my wife write you a letter of thanks after the wedding. I hate to use this revolver, but I can't miss that train." The stranger's insistence on his story that he had to catch a train did not convince the Hardy boys by any means. They were still suspicious of their passenger, the more so now that he used force to induce them to take him to Bayport. "I'd like to get that gun away from him," whispered Frank, as he bent over the wheel. "Not much chance. He's watching us too closely." "Trying to fix up some plot to get hold of this revolver?" asked the stranger. "You needn't bother. I hold the whip hand here." "We know it," retorted Frank. "But wait till we get to Bayport." The motorboat raced on down the bay. The storm clouds that had been collecting all morning now hung heavily in the sky. The bay was sullen and slate-colored, and a heavy sea was running. White caps broke on the surface of the water. "Looks like a storm," Frank muttered. "Perhaps it's just as well we didn't turn back." A streak of lightning split the sky; it was followed by a distant rumble of thunder. The _Sleuth_ was riding the waves well, but there was a rocking motion that could not be avoided. The boat swayed from side to side as it plunged on. After about five minutes Frank glanced behind. The stranger was no longer standing up; he was sitting back against the cushions again and he still held the revolver levelled at the Hardy boys, but there was a curious expression on his face, an expression of nausea; his eyes were staring and his face was pallid. For a moment Frank could not understand what the matter was. Then, as the boat gave a lurch more violent than usual, he understood. He nudged his brother. "Getting seasick!" he whispered.