“I hope you won’t disturb it until after Wednesday,” said Godfrey, quickly.  “I won’t have any interest in it after that.”

“You really think Crochard will try for it Wednesday?”

“I really do.”

I shrugged my shoulders.  What was the use of arguing with a man like that?

“Till after Wednesday, then,” I agreed; and Godfrey, having verified his letter and secured from me the two promises he was after, bade me good-night.

CHAPTER XXIII

WE MEET M. PIGOT

I was just getting ready to leave the office the next afternoon when
Godfrey called me up.

“How are you feeling to-day, Lester?” he asked.

“Not as fit as I might,” I said.

“Have you arranged to start on that vacation Thursday?”

“I don’t think that’s a good joke, Godfrey.”

“It isn’t a joke at all.  I want you to arrange it.  But meanwhile, how would you like a whiff of salt air this evening?”

“First rate.  How will I get it?”

“The Savoie will get to quarantine about six o’clock.  I’m going down on our boat to meet her.  I want to have a talk with Inspector Pigot—­the French detective.  Will you come along?”

“Will I!” I said.  “Where shall I meet you?”

“At the foot of Liberty Street, at five o’clock.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised.  And I was.

The boat was cast loose as soon as we got aboard, backed out into the busy river, her whistle shrieking shrilly, then swung about and headed down stream.  It was a fast boat—­the Record, which prided itself on outdistancing its contemporaries in other directions, would of course try to do so in this—­and when she got fairly into her stride, with her engines throbbing rhythmically, the shore on either hand slipped past us rapidly.

The New York sky-line, as seen from the river, is one of the wonders of the world, and I stood looking at it until we swung out into the bay.  There were two other men on board—­the regular ship reporters, I suppose—­and Godfrey had gone into the cabin with them to talk over some detail of the evening’s work; so I went forward to the bow, where I would get the full benefit of the salt breeze, with the taste of it on my lips.  The Statue of Liberty was just ahead, and already the great search-light in her torch was winking across the water.  Craft innumerable crossed and re-crossed, their lights reflected in the waves, and far ahead, a little to the left, I could see the white glow against the sky which marked the position of Coney Island.

Godfrey joined me presently, and we stood for some time looking at this scene in silence.

“It’s a great sight, isn’t it?” he said, at last.  “Hello! look at that boat!” he added, as a yacht, coming down the bay, drew abreast of us and then slowly forged ahead.  “She can go some, can’t she?  This boat of ours is no slouch, you know; but just look how that one walks away from us.  I wonder who she is?  What boat is that, captain?” he called to the man on the bridge.