Local, State and Federal police confess themselves completely
baffled in the nation-wide search for the missing daughter of
Wilbur Gaylord, international banker of Philadelphia.
Without giving any specific reason, the authorities state that
it is practically certain that Eve Gaylord is the victim of
kidnapers. The operations, it is understood, are being
supervised by an official high in the United States Secret
Service, and this individual is in constant touch with Wilbur
Gaylord.
The latter refused to confirm a rumor to the effect that a huge
ransom had been demanded for the return of Miss Gaylord, but Mr.
Gaylord’s manner, during the interview, indicated that something
had occurred which has not been made public. Doubtless the furor
which the girl’s disappearance has caused has rendered the
kidnapers extremely cautious.
Mr. Gaylord utterly scouts the theory that there is a love
affair at the bottom of the matter, or that Miss Gaylord, for
any reason, is remaining away from home voluntarily.
Ray read every word with tense absorption and looked up to find Starbuck
quietly watching him. The two men stared at each other for fully a
minute before Starbuck broke the silence.
“You see why I couldn’t put you ashore,” he said, with rising
inflection.
“What I would like to know,” Ray told him, “is, just who are you, Mr.
Starbuck?”
“I refer you,” said the other, “to the great American press. Every last
newspaper in your grand and glorious country has, if it is alive, a fat
file on the activities of Miles Starbuck. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Ray lighted a cigarette.
“I’m damned if it is, after what I’ve seen,” he said bluntly.
“It will have to be, for the present,” was the reply.
“Well, what do you intend to do with me?”
“To tell the truth, I can feel my hair turning gray, trying to work that
out,” Starbuck told him. “You are more of a problem than ever. I never
should have taken you out of the water. But I thought I could slip you
ashore here without any fuss. Believe me, if I had known what was coming
off, you would be out there in the ocean yet.”
“You’re a pleasant person, I must say,” Ray told him. “But you have to
do something, you know. You can’t keep me here on this boat
indefinitely.”
“Why couldn’t I?” demanded Starbuck crisply. “In a day or two it will be
an accepted fact that you have been lost at sea. Nobody will bother
about you any more. Why couldn’t I keep you here?”
“Perhaps you could,” admitted Ray. “But I don’t think you mean to.”
“You’re right there,” Starbuck said. “I am really debating whether to
put you back where I found you or take you north with me. I am going
home to my island, and while you would be quite safe and snug there—as
much so as on this boat—I hate to be bothered. You couldn’t escape—it’s
twelve miles to the nearest land—but you might think you could, and
annoy me by trying to do so.”
“I see your viewpoint. You have your hands full with Miss Gaylord,
what?”
“Quite. But I hope she will not be with us too long. Of the two, I
regard you as the more dangerous. Still, I have nothing against you, and
I dislike employing summary measures if I can avoid it. My guests, or
perhaps associates, on board, feel the same as I do about it. On the
whole, I think we shall have to take you north with us and chance it.”
“Suppose I gave my word to say nothing, if you let me go ashore,” Ray
said, tentatively.
“You probably would keep it,” Starbuck returned. “But I could not afford
the risk, slight though it might be. No.”
“Very well, then. I may as well be philosophical about it, I suppose.
Can you tell me any more about this island of yours? I remember there
was something about it in the papers, but I did not pay much attention.”
“What the papers said was that I owned a magnificent island estate in
the Irish Sea, off the coast of the Isle of Skye. That is partly true.
Only I do not own it; I lease it—and the yacht too—from the estate of
Lord Derricote. Would you believe it, I have sunk in this venture of
mine some eighteen thousand pounds—ninety thousand American dollars?”
“On which you expect a handsome return, I dare say.”
“Quite handsome. It should be, with the attendant risk. But that will be
all, now. You’re an engaging cuss, Folsom. In a minute I shall be
offering to sell you a piece of my show. We are going to pull out for
Liverpool at once. Koli will see that you find your room, this time.
Night.”
“Good night,” Ray said absently.