"If it weren't for Laura," she said, "you'd find it pretty hard to keep me away. I think that if I could see the handcuffs put on that man, it would be the happiest moment of my life."

"We'll get him all right," Quest promised. "Remember me to Laura."

"And present my compliments, also," the Professor begged.

Lenora left them. The Professor, his spirits apparently a little improved by the prospect of action, accepted some whisky and a cigar. Presently they heard the automobile stop outside and French appeared.

"Anything doing?" he asked.

Quest showed him the card and the sailing list. The Inspector nodded.

"Say, that fellow's some sport!" he remarked admiringly. "You wouldn't believe it just to look at him. That staircase this afternoon, though, kind of teaches one not to trust to appearances. So you think he's getting a move on him, Mr. Quest?"

"I think he had a truck waiting for him at the corner of Gayson Avenue,"

Quest replied. "It was the machine my men went after. The men looked like river thugs, although I shouldn't have thought of it if the Professor hadn't used the word 'river pirates.' It's quite clear that they took Craig down to the river. There's only one likely ship sailing to-night and that's the _Durham_. It's my belief Craig's on her."

The Inspector glanced at the clock.

"Then we've got to make tracks," he declared, "and pretty quick, too.

She'll be starting from somewhere about Number Twenty-eight dock, a long way down. Come along, gentlemen."

They hurried out to the automobile and started off for the docks. The latter part of their journey was accomplished under difficulties, for the street was packed with drays and heavy vehicles. They reached dock Number Twenty-eight at last, however, and hurried through the shed on to the wharf. There were no signs of a steamer there.

"Where's the _Durham_?" Quest asked one of the carters, who was just getting his team together.

The man pointed out to the middle of the river, where a small steamer was lying.

"There she is," he replied. "She'll be off in a few minutes. You'll hear the sirens directly, when they begin to move down."

Quest led the way quickly to the edge of the wharf. There was a small tug there, the crew of which were just making her fast for the night.

"Fifty dollars if you'll take us out to the _Durham_ and catch her before she sails," Quest shouted to the man who seemed to be the captain. "What do you say?"

The man spat out a plug of tobacco from his mouth.

"I'd take you to h.e.l.l for fifty dollars," he answered tersely. "Step in.

We'll make it, if you look quick."

They clambered down the iron ladder and jumped on to the deck of the tug.

The captain seized the wheel. The two men who formed the crew took off their coats and waistcoats.

"Give it her, Jim," the former ordered. "Now, then, here goes! We'll just miss the ferry."

They swung around and commenced their journey. Quest stood with his watch in his hand. They were getting up the anchor of the _Durham_, and from higher up the river came the screech of steamers beginning to move on their outward way.

"We'll make it all right," the captain a.s.sured them.

They were within a hundred yards of the _Durham_ when Quest gave a little exclamation. From the other side of the steamer another tug shot away, turning back towards New York. Huddled up in the stern, half concealed in a tarpaulin, was a man in a plain black suit. Quest, with a little shout, recognised the man at the helm from his long brown beard.

"That's one of those fellows who was in the truck," he declared, "and that's Craig in the stern! We've got him this time. Say, Captain, it's that tug I want. Never mind about the steamer. Catch it and I'll make it a hundred dollars!"

The man swung round the wheel, but he glanced at Quest a little doubtfully.

"Say, what is this show?" he asked.

Quest opened his coat and displayed his badge. He pointed to the Inspector.

"Police job. This is Inspector French, I am Sanford Quest."

"Good enough," the man replied. "What's the bloke wanted for?"

"Murder," Quest answered shortly.

"That so?" the other remarked. "Well, you'll get him, sure! He's looking pretty scared, too. You'd better keep your eyes open, though. I don't know how many men there are on board, but that tug belongs to the toughest crew up the river. Got anything handy in the way of firearms?"

Quest nodded.

"You don't need to worry," he said. "We've automatics here, but as long as we're heading them this way, they'll know the game's up."

"We've got her!" the captain exclaimed. "There's the ferry and the first of the steamers coming down in the middle. They'll have to chuck it."

Right ahead of them, blazing with lights, a huge ferry came churning the river up and sending great waves in their direction. On the other side, unnaturally large, loomed up the great bows of an ocean-going steamer. The tug was swung round and they ran up alongside. The man with the beard leaned over.

"Say, what's your trouble?" he demanded.

The Inspector stepped forward.

"I want that man you've got under the tarpaulin," he announced.

"Say, you ain't the river police?"

"I'm Inspector French from headquarters," was the curt reply. "The sooner you hand him over, the better for you."

"Do you hear that, O'Toole?" the other remarked, swinging round on his heel. "Get up, you blackguard!"

A man rose from underneath the oilskin. He was wearing Craig's clothes, but his face was the face of a stranger. As quick as lightning, Quest swung round in his place.

"He's fooled us again!" he exclaimed. "Head her round, Captain--back to the _Durham_!"

The sailor shook his head.

"We've lost our chance, guvnor," he pointed out, "Look!"

Quest set his teeth and gripped the Inspector's arm. The place where the _Durham_ had been anch.o.r.ed was empty. Already, half a mile down the river, with a trail of light behind and her siren shrieking, the _Durham_ was standing out seawards.