boat. Are you going to make any more trouble?"
The man groaned again, tried to get to his feet, found that his ankles were tied together, and sank back with a sigh.
"He won't give us any more bother," declared Joe, coming forward. It was plain that there was no more fight left in their captive.
"I wish this fog would lift," said Frank.
As though in answer to his words a sudden gust of wind sent the mist in scurrying wreaths, raising the heavy grey veil long enough to enable him to see Bayport lying almost directly ahead. He could make out the position of the row of boathouses and he headed the Sleuth toward them.
The curtain of fog descended again, but Frank was now fairly sure of his position.
"We're heading in the right direction now."
"Should we try to make the boathouse? I don't think we'll be able to find it in this mist."
"I guess you're right. We'll land at the big wharf."
In a short while, the boat was nosing its way through the fog, among the shadowy craft anchored near Bayport wharf. The city loomed up in a ghostly dark mass beyond the water
Finally the Sleuth drew alongside the wharf
