wharf, I shall be mightily surprised. No; I have decided to be surprised at nothing hereafter. The Isabel! There's another coincidence—the first name of Mrs. Harding or Mrs. Winthrop or whatever it is—the woman of the Raymond Hotel. Well, here goes for the Isabel."
It is cold, foggy, dark and altogether disagreeable as Jack alights from the car at the foot of Twenty-third Street and picks his way down the long wharf to where he is informed the detained steamer is docked. She is still there; he sees her smokestacks and masts outlined against the sky. A single lantern is alight on the vessel, but the gang-plank has been hauled in.
"Steamer ahoy!" Ashley calls, and after several repetitions of the hail a gruff voice sounds from the gloom in the vicinity of the lantern.
"Ashore, there! What do you want?"
"Is this the Isabel?"
"Yes," is the brief reply.
"Well, I want to talk with you a moment. Can't you run out a plank and hold that lantern nearer, so I can see to come aboard? I am from the Hemisphere."
There is a moment's hesitation and then the lantern approaches the steamer's side and a plank is extended to the pier.
"Now, all I want to find out is about the alleged seizure of the vessel," begins Jack, thrusting a cigar into the fist that releases the lantern.
"There ain't much to say," is the reply. "I am a United States deputy marshal and was placed in charge of the vessel this noon. Whether her cargo contains arms and ammunition I can't say for sure, as she is not to be searched till tomorrow, but from the remarks dropped by some of the crew I'll bet a hat the cargo has been taken off. One of the crew was considerably under the weather when I came aboard and I gathered from his talk that some of the Isabel's cargo was shifted to another steamer, a long, black craft, some time after midnight or early this morning."
"What was the name of the other steamer?" inquires Ashley, a sudden suspicion entering his mind.
