"A 20-ft. high-powered speedboat. Mostly she was a blur in the dark. Not a light showing."

"How many in the boat?"

"Three, I'd say."

The information tended to convince the Cubs that the craft was the same one that had smashed into Mr. Holloway's sailboat.

As they were telling Hank about the incident, a tapping sound was heard on the planking outside the door. A moment later, a blindman led by a seeing-eye dog, groped his way into the warehouse.

"Good morning, Joe," the watchman greeted him. "How's business today?"

"Lousy," the blindman complained. "I've sold only four packages of pencils all morning. The sun's so hot it's wilting me. Mind if I chin for a few minutes while I cool off?"

"Glad to have you," Hank said, guiding the man to a seat on a box. "Boys, meet Joe Matt, a friend of mine."

The Cubs gave their own names. Feeling sorry for the man, Brad then bought a package of pencils for a quarter. However, the blindman pocketed the coin rather indifferently.

"What do you hear from the cops?" he asked Hank. "Any clue as to the fur thieves?"

"Apparently it was a clean get-away. The box was insured for only half its value and that makes it tough for Hodur and Fameister. I'm lucky I didn't lose my job?"

"Why should anyone blame you?" the blindman demanded. "It wasn't your fault."

"No, but maybe my employer will figure I should have had my eyes open a little wider. It's the first time I've lost anything in the eighteen years I've been workin' on the waterfront."

Hank discussed the theft at length and then began to tell other tales of the waterfront which kept the Cubs enthralled. Brad, Dan, and Midge presently found themselves drawn into the conversation. They told of their Cave on the hillside and the exciting treasure hunt which had led to the discovery of Jacques lying on the beach.

"Jacques?" the blindman interposed. "Is that his name? Must be one of those foreigners."

"French, we think," Midge revealed, failing to notice the look of intent interest in the blindman's otherwise mask-like face. "He's not much to talk."

"Hasn't told you anything about himself?"

"Not yet."

"Where is the youngster now?"

"He may be at the Cave."

The blindman talked a few minutes more and then arose to leave. Dan also slid down from the packing box on which he had perched himself.

Slight as was the movement, it disturbed the seeing-eye dog. With a snarl, he sprang at the boy.

Startled, Dan leaped backward. The blindman uttered a sharp command.

"Here, Rudy! Come here! Behave yourself!"

Still growling and eyeing Dan with deep hate, the dog allowed his master to grasp him by the leash.

"Quite a vicious dog you have there," Brad said, edging away. "He might have taken a chunk out of Dan."

"Rudy isn't vicious," the blindman denied. "Now and then he takes a dislike to someone. Usually he won't attack unless he's annoyed."

"That's encouraging," Dan said with a wry grin. "Believe me, in the future I'll take pains not to annoy him."

Without apologizing for the incident, the blindman took the dog and went off down the wharf. For a long while, the Cubs could hear his cane tapping on the planks.

"Joe Matt isn't a bad sort after you know him," the watchman remarked, aware that the Cubs had not been favorably impressed by the man's manners. "Being blind would make anyone out-of-sorts, I guess."

"Sure," Brad agreed. "I suppose he's attached to that dog-though he's an ugly animal. Wouldn't want to meet him on a dark night."

"You can bet I'll give him a wide berth," Dan added with a laugh. "Rudy didn't go for me. And the feeling's mutual! By the way, Hank, how long have you known Joe Matt?"

"Oh, I don't remember," the watchman replied indifferently, knocking the ashes from his pipe. "Six months maybe. Well, I've been spinning yarns long enough. Got to do a little work now."

Accepting the remark as a dismissal, Dan, Brad and Midge said goodbye, and left the warehouse. At the bus line, they debated, and finally decided to make an appearance at the Cave.

"Mr. Holloway and Fred will need some help cleaning up the place," Dan declared. "Also, if Jacques is there, I'd like to talk to him again."

"He seemed to go for you more than anyone else," Brad said, signaling to a bus driver. "Maybe you can get him to loosen up a bit."

The sun was high overhead as the three Cubs alighted from the bus ten minutes later. Crossing the beach, they climbed to the Cave.

Entering, they saw at once that something was amiss. Mr. Holloway and Fred were there alone, their brooms discarded. Rather dejectedly they sat at a table, studying an object which was hidden from view.

"Hi!" Dan greeted the pair. "Where's Jacques? We thought you were bringing him here."

"We did," replied Fred significantly.

The other Cubs looked quickly about the disordered room. Plainly Jacques was nowhere in the Cave.

"Where is he?" Brad demanded. "Don't keep us in suspense. He didn't take a turn for the worse?"

Mr. Hatfield shook his head.

"No, Jacques appeared fine when last we saw him. This will explain." He thrust a note into Brad's hand. "The lad left it here a few minutes ago."

In a large, hard-to-read scrawl, the boy had written:

"Thanks for everything. Goodbye."

Beneath the message appeared a crudely drawn Wolf cub, its sharp ears pointing to the final word: "Jacques."

CHAPTER 4 Fluke Victory