“Oh!” exclaimed Maud.  “There was a picture made of that scene, then?”

“To be sure.  It was never shown but once to an audience of one.  I sat and chuckled to myself while the film was being run.”

“Was it kept, or destroyed?” asked the girl, breathlessly.

“I ordered it preserved amongst our archives.  Probably Goldstein now has the negative out here, stored in our Hollywood vaults.”

“And the date—­when was it?” she demanded.

“Why, the annual meeting is always the last Thursday in January.  Figure it out—­it must have been the twenty-sixth.  But is the exact date important, Miss Stanton?”

“Very,” she announced.  “I don’t know yet the exact date that Andrews landed in New York on his return from Vienna, but if it happened to be later than the twenty-sixth of January—­”

“I see.  In that case the picture will clear me of suspicion.”

“Precisely.  I shall now go and wire New York for the information I need.”

“Can’t you get it of Le Drieux?” asked the young man.

“Perhaps so; I’ll try.  But it will be better to get the date from the steamship agent direct.”

With this they shook the boy’s hand, assuring him of their sympathy and their keen desire to aid him, and then hurried away from the jail.

CHAPTER XXII

MASCULINE AND FEMININE

Uncle John and the girls, after consulting together, decided to stop at the Hollywood studio and pick up Flo and Mrs. Montrose.

“It would be a shame to visit that lovely yacht without them,” said Patsy; “and we were all invited, you know.”

“Yes, invited by a host who is unavoidably detained elsewhere,” added Uncle John.

“Still, that yacht is very exclusive,” his niece stated, “and I’m sure we are the first Americans to step foot on its decks.”

They were all in a brighter mood since the interview at the jail, and after a hurried lunch at the hotel, during which Maud related to the others the morning’s occurrences, they boarded the big Merrick seven-passenger automobile and drove to Santa Monica Bay.  Louise couldn’t leave the baby, who was cutting teeth, but Arthur and Beth joined the party and on arrival at the beach Uncle John had no difficulty in securing a launch to take them out to the Arabella.

“They won’t let you aboard, though,” declared the boatman.  “A good many have tried it, an’ come back disjointed.  There’s something queer about that craft; but the gov’ment don’t seem worried, so I guess it ain’t a pirate.”

The beauty of the yacht grew on them as they approached it.  It was painted a pure white in every part and on the stern was the one word:  Arabella, but no name of the port from which she hailed.  The ladder was hoisted and fastened to an upper rail, but as they drew up to the smooth sides a close-cropped bullet-head projected from the bulwarks and a gruff voice demanded: