a
chamber-maid--as were up and about that grey morning, wondered why the
two old gentlemen who had arrived from London the day before should rise
from their beds to hold a secret and mysterious conference with the
three young ones who, with a charming if tired-looking young lady, drove
up before the city clocks had struck six. But Sir Cresswell Oliver and
Mr. Petherton knew that there was no time to be lost, and as soon as
Audrey had been restored to and carried off by her mother to Mrs.
Greyle's room, they summoned Vickers and Copplestone to a private
parlour and demanded their latest news. Sir Cresswell listened eagerly,
and in silence, until Copplestone described the return of the _Pike_; at
that he broke his silence.

"That's precisely what I feared!" he exclaimed. "Of course, if she's been
hurriedly repainted and renamed, she stands a fair chance of getting
away. Our instructions to the patrol boats up there are to look for a
certain vessel, the _Pike_--naturally they won't look for anything else.
We must get the wireless to work at once."

"But there's this," said Copplestone. "They certainly fetched old
Chatfield to make him hand over the gold! They won't go away without
that! And he said that he'd hidden the gold somewhere near Scarhaven.
Therefore, they'll have to come down this coast to get it."

"Not necessarily," replied Sir Cresswell, with a knowing shake of the
head. "You may be sure they're alive to all the exigencies of the
situation. They could do several things once they'd got Chatfield on
board again. Some of them could land with him at some convenient port and
make him take them to where he's hidden the money; they could recapture
that and go off to some other port, to which the yacht had meanwhile been
brought round. If we only knew where Chatfield had planted that
money--"

"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers.

"Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's a
wide term--a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hills
and moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought!
Well, that's all I can think of--getting into communication with patrol
boats and coastguard stations all along the coast between here and Wick.
And that mayn't be the least good. Somebody may have escorted Chatfield
ashore after they left you yesterday, brought him hereabouts by rail or
motor-car, and the yacht may have made a wide detour round the Sh