THE TRAIL.
Herc decided to begin his investigation into Ned's mysterious
disappearance by making a canvass of the hotels on Civic Island. There
were not so very many of them, and by chance the third or fourth that
he struck was the one in which Ned had put up.
But he could not glean much information there. They informed him of the
hour that Ned had left the place, and further questioning elicited the
fact that, as we know, Ned had engaged a hack to convey him part way to
his destination.
Armed with this information, Herc, feeling not at all eased in his
mind, started out to find the hackman. He had a long search for the
man, but at last he discovered him in the person of a bulbous-nosed,
bibulous-looking old specimen of the genus hack-driver.
Yes, the man recollected Ned. Knew the very place he had dropped him.
Would he drive Herc out there? Certainly. Ned jumped into the rickety
old conveyance owned by the bulbous-nosed man, who rejoiced in the name
of Chuck Chiggins.
Chuck's bony old nag, in due time, landed the cab at the place where
Ned had left it. Herc could see the Neck stretching out tenuously
across the shining water. Telling Chuck to wait, he walked about for
an hour or more trying rather vaguely to locate at least some clew
to Ned's whereabouts. Needless almost is it to say, that he did not
succeed in his purpose. In fact it was more for the sake of doing
something to work off his anxiety that Herc made the idle search at all.
"The Neck appears ter be gittin' a pop'lar place lately," volunteered
Chuck, when Herc returned.
"How's that?" asked Herc disinterestedly, as he resumed his place and
told Chuck to drive back to the island.
"Why, it's jes' this way. Right arter your friend drove down this way,
I meets a Jap pluggin' along the road. He asks me to drive him to some
point near to the Neck."
"What's that?" Herc had suddenly galvanized into interest. A Jap! And
in the vicinity of the place where Ned was carrying on his confidential
observations! There was food for thought here.
The old cabby, with a look of astonishment at Herc's sudden and
vehement interest, repeated his story.
"He were a mighty onery looking Jap, too," he volunteered; "but, Lord
bless yer, if I was ter inquire into the character of everyone that
rode in this here cab, it's not much business that I'd be doin'."
As they jogged along over the sandy road, Herc had plenty of material
for reflection. Of course, it might be only a far-fetched conclusion,
but it appeared reasonable to suppose that the Jap whom Chuck had
driven was none other than Saki.
If this was the case, Herc was almost certain that the Oriental and
Kenworth had an appointment on the Neck. It was not likely, either,
that they were there for any legitimate purpose, inasmuch as one had
deserted from his ship and the other had overstayed his leave for the
purpose.
"I'm certain that their presence there meant harm to good old Ned,"
muttered Herc gloomily. "My! what a tangle this thing is getting into."
The old hack jolted over the bridge and began traversing the streets
of Civic Island. Ordinarily Herc would have found much to look at.
The Island is one of the most remarkable places in the vicinity of
New York. In summer the inlet between the island and the main land is
crowded with houseboats and pleasure craft of all kinds.
Its one main street, bordered by gimcrack restaurants and rickety
boarding-houses, interspersed with a few stores, is thronged with
white-garbed yachtsmen and girls in brightly colored blazers and
duck skirts. There is music everywhere, from wheezy orchestrions to
wandering string orchestras. It is a veritable summer city by the sea.
With the first blast of cold weather the pageant vanishes, and Civic
Island is deserted of its butterfly population almost overnight.
But there is another aspect to life on this remarkable island. On the
side opposite to that devoted to catering to the summer guests, is a
strange colony of beach-combers, fishermen and more or less languishing
boat-works. In this part of the island, too, are laid up the gaunt
skeletons of various yachts which have competed for the America Cup.
Useless for any purpose but that for which they were built, racing
machines pure and simple, the hulls of the once splendid sailing cracks
lie moldering on ancient ways, dreaming of the days when they skimmed
the seas with pyramids of snowy canvas rising above their deep-keeled
bodies. In this part of the island can be found gaunt, rat-haunted
factory buildings once devoted to sail-lofts and rope-walks. But
with the passing of this branch of maritime trade from Civic Island
the rickety structures with gaping windows and cracking boards stand
tenantless and moss-grown like so many stranded hulks, the tide washing
at the piles on which some of them extend out over the water.
They were passing along the lower end of the "summer resort" street
of the island when Herc gave a sudden exclamation. Before Chuck could
utter a word, Herc was out of the rig and bounding off down the
thoroughfare.
The old cabby had not even time to shout out indignantly that Herc
had forgotten the formality of paying his fare, before the tall,
red-headed youth had vanished round a corner, his long legs going like
piston rods.
The cause of Herc's sudden change from the cab to the street was this:
Rounding the corner, past which he himself dashed a moment later, he
had caught a glimpse of two backs that appeared strikingly familiar to
him.
Like a flash, the reason for this familiar appearance had come over him.
The two pedestrians who excited his attention were Kenworth, the
renegade midshipman, and Saki, the mysterious Jap.