h a start of about half a second."

"I tried to get you," I explained, "as soon as Simmonds told me they
were going to look at the cabinet. I 'phoned the office. The city
editor said he had sent you out into Westchester."

Godfrey laughed shortly.

"It was a wild-goose chase," he said, "cooked up by our friend
Crochard. But even then, I'd have got back, if we hadn't punctured a
tire when we were five miles from anywhere. I knew what was up--but
there I was. Oh, he's made fools of us all, Lester. I told you he
would!"

"Then you didn't get my message?"

"Yes--they gave it to me when I 'phoned in that the Westchester
business was a fake. I rushed for the station, though I knew I'd be
too late."

"But, Godfrey," I said, "I can't understand, even yet, how he did it.
Grady and Simmonds left the boat with Pigot and were with him all
evening, showing him the sights. How did Crochard get into it? What
did he do with Pigot? Where _is_ Pigot?"

"He's on the _Savoie._ I rushed a wireless down to her as soon as I
left the station. They made a search and found Pigot bound and gagged
under the berth in his stateroom."

I could only gasp.

"And to think I didn't suspect!" added Godfrey, bitterly. "We stood
there and saw that yacht with the French flag walk away from us; we
saw her put a man aboard the _Savoie_; we saw that man talking to
Pigot...."

"Yes," I said, breathlessly; "yes."

"Well, that man was Crochard. He got Pigot into his stateroom--gave
him a whiff of the same stuff he used on Simmonds, no doubt; put him
out of the way under the berth; got into his clothes, made up his
face, _put_ on a wig--and all that while we were kicking our heels
outside waiting for him."

"But it was a tremendous risk," I said. "There were so many people on
board who knew Pigot--it would have to be a perfect disguise."

"Crochard wouldn't stop for that. But it wasn't much of a risk. None
of us had seen Pigot closely; all we had seen of him was the back of
his head; and the passengers were all on deck watching the quarantine
men. And yet, of course, the disguise was a perfect one. Crochard is
an artist in that line, and he was, no doubt, thoroughly familiar
with Pigot's appearance. He deceived the purser--but the purser
wouldn't suspect anything!"

"So it was really Crochard...."

"But _we_ ought to have suspected. We ought to have suspected
everything, questioned everything; I ought to have looked up that
visitor and found o