a broken cable. But he gave no outward sign of this inward commotion.
"Because he wants to get down to Colon before the Hamburg-American boat hits the port," ventured Blake. "His moll 's aboard!"
"But he blew out for 'Frisco this morning," contended the puzzled Sheiner. "Shot through as though he 'd just had a rumble!"
"Oh, he said that, but he went south, all right."
"Then he went in an oyster sloop. There 's nothing sailing from this port to-day."
"Well, what 's Binhart got to do with our trouble anyway? What I want—"
"But I saw him start," persisted the other. "He ducked for a day coach and said he was traveling for his health. And he sure looked like a man in a hurry!"
Blake sipped his bruilleau, glanced casually at his watch, and took out a cigar and lighted it. He blinked contentedly across the table at the man he was "buzzing." The trick had been turned. The word had been given. He knew that Binhart was headed westward again. He
