"What had we better do, Mr. Inspector?" asked Mr. Wetherell.
"Find the Maid of the Mist at once. She's an untenanted ship, being for sale. You will go aboard, sir, with your companion to the cuddy. Don't take your money, however. We'll draw up alongside as soon as you're below, and when one of their gang, whom you'll despatch for it, comes up to get the coin, we'll collar him and then come down to your assistance. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly. But how are we to know the vessel?"
"Well, the better plan would be for you to follow us. We'll pull within a hundred yards of her. I learn from one of my men that she's painted white, so you'll have no difficulty at all in recognising her."
"Very well, then; we'll follow you."
The police boat accordingly set off and we followed about fifty yards behind her. A thick drizzle was beginning to fall, and it was by no means an easy task to keep her in sight. For some time we pulled on. Then we began to get closer to her. Presently we were alongside.
"There's your craft," said the inspector, pointing as he spoke to a big vessel showing dimly away to starboard of us. "Pull over to her."
I followed his instructions, and arriving at the vessel's side, hitched on, made the painter fast to her after-rigging, and then, having clambered aboard, assisted Mr. Wetherell to do the same. As soon as we had both gained the deck we stood and looked about us, at the same time listening for any sound which might proclaim the presence of the men we had come to meet. But save the sighing of the wind in the shrouds overhead, the dismal creaking of blocks, and the drip of moisture
