that--eh?"

The detectives who had accompanied Sir Cresswell on the interrupted
expedition to the old tower and who had now followed him and his
companions in a second car and arrived in time to hear Copplestone's
story, looked at each other.

"That's right enough--comparatively speaking," said one. "But if they're
in the Warren we shall get 'em out. The first thing to do, gentlemen, is
to take a look at that tug."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "Just what I was thinking. Let us
find out what its people have to say."

The man who smoked his pipe in placid contentment on the deck of the tug
looked up in astonishment as the posse of eight crossed the plank which
connected him with the quay. Nevertheless he preserved an undaunted
front, kept his pipe in his tightly closed lips, and cocked a defiant eye
at everybody.

"Skipper o' this craft?" asked the principal detective laconically.
"Right? Where are you from, then, and when did you come in here?"

The skipper removed his pipe and spat over the rail. He put the pipe
back, folded his arms and glared.

"And what the dickens may that be to do with you?" he inquired. "And who
may you be to walk aboard my vessel without leave?"

"None of that, now!" said the detective. "Come on--we're police officers.
There's something wrong round here. We've got warrants for two men that
we believe to have been on your tug--one of 'em was seen here not so many
minutes ago. You'd far better tell us what you know. If you don't tell
now, you'll have to tell later. And--I expect you've been paid already.
Come on--out with it!"

The skipper, whose gnarled countenance had undergone several changes
during this address, smote one red fist on top of the other.

"Darned if I don't know as there was something on the crook in this here
affair!" he said, almost cheerily. "Well, well--but I ain't got nothing
to do with it. Warrants?--you say? Ah! And what might be the partiklar'
natur' o' them warrants?"

"Murder!" answered the detective. "That's one charge, anyhow--for one of
'em, at any rate. There's others."

"Murder's enough," responded the skipper. "Well, of course, nobody can
tell a man to be a murderer by merely looking at his mug. Not at
all!--nobody! However, this here is how it is. Last night it
were--evening, to be c'rect--dark. I was on the edge o' the fleet, out
there off the Dogger. A yacht comes up--smart 'un--very fast sailer--and
hails me. Was I going into Norcaster o