Anyhow, forewarned as I was, I felt it would be an uncommonly bright policeman who succeeded in arresting me.  In the day-time, so long as I kept a good look out, anything like a surprise attack was impossible, and after that night I made up my mind that I would sleep on the Betty.  The only thing was, I should most certainly have to deprive myself of the luxury of a skipper.  Useful as he was at taking letters into Tilbury, it would be decidedly embarrassing to have him on board if I happened to arrive in a hurry on the beach with two perspiring detectives in hot pursuit.

At six o’clock, as there was still no sign of a visitor, I decided to walk over to the Betty and tell Mr. Gow that he could treat himself to another holiday.  It would only take me about half an hour, and in case McMurtrie turned up while I was away I could leave a message on the door to the effect that I should be back before seven.

I did this, pinning it up carefully with a drawing-tack and then after making sure that everything was secure I started off for the creek.

I found Mr. Gow in his usual restful attitude, his head and shoulders sticking up out of the fo’c’s’le hatch, and a large pipe protruding from his mouth.  With the instincts of a true retainer he promptly removed the latter as soon as he heard my hail, and hoisting himself up on deck put off in the dinghy.

“I’m not coming aboard,” I said.  “I only walked over to tell you that you can have a couple of days ashore.  We shan’t be using the boat till Saturday or Sunday.”

He thanked me and touched his cap (I could see he was beginning to think it was rather a soft job he had stumbled into), and then, with the air of some one breaking unpleasant tidings, he added:  “Do you happen to know, sir, as we’re clean out o’ petrol?”

I didn’t happen to know it, but under the circumstances it was information I was glad to acquire.

“Can you get me some—­soon?” I asked.

He nodded.  “I’ll bring along a couple o’ cans in the mornin’, sir, and leave ’em aboard.”

“Any news?” I asked.

“Well, sir, I seed the Dutchmen’s launch goin’ down this arternoon—­travellin’ proper they was too, same as when they swamped me.  I suppose you ain’t bin able to do nothin’ about that matter not yet, sir?”

“I’m looking into it, Mr. Gow,” I said.  “I have a friend helping me, and between us I think we shall be able to get some satisfaction out of them.  I shall probably have more to tell you on Saturday.”

With this answer he seemed quite content.  “Well, I’ll just run back aboard and get my bag, sir,” he observed.  “I reckon I’d better pull the dinghy up on top o’ the bank when I done with her.  If any o’ them Tilbury folk should ’appen to come along they won’t see ’er then—­not among the long grass.”

It was a sensible suggestion on the face of it, but in view of the fact that I might find it necessary to embark rather abruptly, I couldn’t afford to risk any unnecessary delays.