good mile away and the _Adventurer's_ small
searchlight was not powerful enough to bridge that distance with its
white glare. "They're making for the harbour, anyway," said Harry
Corwin, "and so she can't get away from us if we lose her now." Even as
he ended the last pallid rays of the moon vanished and they found
themselves in darkness save for the wan radiance of the stars. Lights
unnoticed before sprang up in the gloom along the shore and a dim
radiance in the sky showed where the town of Gloucester slumbered.

"If they double on us now we'll lose them," muttered Steve. "Put that
light out, Joe. We can see better without it."

"How far off is the harbour?" asked Harry.

"About two miles. You can hear the whistle buoy. That white light to the
left of the red flash is the beacon on the end of the breakwater." He
moved the helm a trifle and examined the chart. "There are no rocks,
anyway, and that's a comfort. I can't say I like this running at night.
How far away was she when the moon went back on us, Harry?"

"Oh, three-quarters, at a rough guess."

"Nearer a mile and a quarter, I'd say. Well, if she doesn't dodge along
shore we'll have her in the harbour. Always supposing, that is, that she
really is the _Follow Me_."

"She can't be anything else," answered Harry. "No sensible skipper would
go ploughing around at night without a light. Hello! Isn't that a light
there now?"

"Where? Yes, you're right! She's lighted up at last! Afraid to go in
without lights, I dare say, for fear of arousing suspicion. I'm getting
to believe she _is_ the _Follow Me_, Harry."

"I haven't doubted it once. Do you suppose she knows we're after her?"

"She knows we're here, of course, but she can't be certain we're after
her. Still, turning that searchlight on was a sort of give-away. If she
really does go inside it's just because she's afraid of her fuel giving
out. We'd better anchor as far out as we can and keep our eyes open
until daylight comes."

"She couldn't get gas before morning, I guess," said Joe. "Looks to me
as if, if she _is_ the _Follow Me_, they've run themselves into a trap!"

"Hope so, I'm sure," said Wink Wheeler. "If we've caught her we've
certainly been lucky, fellows!"

"Don't count your chickens until they're hatched," advised Ossie. "Maybe
she isn't the _Follow Me_ at all."

"I can't see her light now," called Phil from the bow. "Hold on, there's
a green light, I think! No, I guess I was wrong. Can'