“That is just what I feel.  Likely enough they had the mainsail already up and the chain short, and directly the boat was up at the davits they would have got up the anchor and been off.  They may be twenty miles away by this time; though whether east or west one has no means of even guessing.  The wind is nearly due north, and they may have gone either way, or have made for Cherbourg or Havre.  It depends partly upon her size.  If she is a small craft, they can’t get far beyond that range.  If she is a large one, she may have gone anywhere.  The worst of it is that unless we can get some clue as to her size we can do absolutely nothing.  A good many yachts went off today both east and west, and by the end of the week the whole fleet will be scattered, and even if we do get the size of the yacht, I don’t see that we can do anything unless we can get her name too.

“If we could do that, we could act at once.  I should run up to town, lay the case before the authorities at Scotland Yard, and get them to telegraph to every port in the kingdom, that upon her putting in there the vessel was at once to be searched for two ladies who were believed to have been forcibly carried away in her.”

“And have those on board arrested, I suppose, Major?”

“Well, that would have to be thought over, George.  Carthew could not be brought to punishment without the whole affair being made public.  That is the thing above all others to be avoided.”

“Yes, I see that, sir; and yet it seems hard that he should go off unpunished again.”

“He would not go unpunished, you may be sure,” Frank said, grimly; “for if the fellow ever showed his face in London again, I would thrash him to within an inch of his life.  However, sure as I feel, it is possible that I am mistaken.  Miss Greendale is known to be an only daughter, and an heiress, and some other impecunious scamp may have conceived the idea of making a bold stroke for her fortune.  It is not likely, but it is possible.”

Until morning broke, the two men paced the deck together.  Scarcely a word was spoken.  Frank was in vain endeavouring to think what course had best be taken, if the search for the men of the phantom turned out unavailing.  George was brooding over the old wrong he had suffered, and longing to avenge that and the present one.

“Thank God, the night is over,” Frank said at last; “and I have thoroughly tired myself.  I have thought until I am stupid.  Now I will lie down on one of the sofas, and perhaps I may forget it all for a few hours.”

Sleep, however, did not come to him, and at seven o’clock he was on deck again.

“The men went ashore at six, sir,” the skipper said.  “I expect they will be back again before long.”

Ten minutes later the dinghy came out between two yachts ahead.

“Rawlins is not on board,” the skipper said, as they came close.  “I told him to send off the instant they got any news whatever.  That is Simpson in the stern.”