Part 25 (1/2)
”Can you tell me anything at all about them?” went on Dave. ”It is very important, indeed.”
”I might as well tell you,” put in Mr. Porter, in a low voice. ”They were a pair of criminals.”
”You don't say! Well, do you know, I didn't much like their looks,”
returned the clerk. ”And come to think of it, one acted rather scared-like, the fellow calling himself Leeds-this one,” and he pointed to the picture of Link Merwell.
”And you haven't any idea where they went to?”
”Not the slightest. They simply paid their bill and went away.”
”Did they have any trunks sent off?” asked Roger. ”We might find the expressman,” he explained, to the others.
”No, they had nothing but hand baggage.”
”What-can you remember that?” questioned Dave.
”Yes, each had a suit-case and a small valise,-kind of a tool-bag affair.”
”Better look for that schooner, Dave,” said his uncle, in a low voice, and in a few minutes more they left the hotel, telling the clerk that they might be back.
”Shall we get breakfast now?” questioned the senator's son. He was beginning to grow hungry.
”You can get something to eat if you wish, Roger,” answered Dave. ”I am going to try to locate that schooner first.”
”No, I'll wait too, then,” said Roger.
The s.h.i.+pping along the St. John's River at Jacksonville is rather extensive. But Dunston Porter knew his business and went direct to one of the offices where he knew he could find out all about the s.h.i.+ps going out under charter and otherwise.
”We want to find out about a schooner named the _Emma Brown_, or _Black_, or _Jones_, or some common name like that,” said Dave's uncle, to the elderly man in charge. ”She was in this harbor several days ago.
I don't know if she has sailed or not.”
”_Emma Brown_, eh?” mused the s.h.i.+pping-clerk. ”Never heard of such a schooner.”
”Maybe she was the _Emma Black_, or _Emma Jones_,” suggested Dave.
”No schooner by that name here,-at least not for the past month or two.
We had an _Emma Blackney_ here about six weeks ago. But she sailed for Nova Scotia.”
”Well, try to think of some s.h.i.+p that might be named something like what we said,” pleaded Dave. ”This is very important.”
”A s.h.i.+p that might have sailed from here in the past two or three days,”
added Roger.
The elderly s.h.i.+pping-clerk leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair, thoughtfully.
”Maybe you're looking for the _Emma Brower_,” he said. ”But she isn't a schooner, she's a bark. She left this port yesterday morning.”
”Bound for where?” asked Dave, eagerly.