On Sunday, the 19th, he got the first hint which encouraged him to think he was on the trail of his fugitive.  He had gone down again to the wharf where the Swordfish, advertised to sail the next day, was lying.  The captain was not on board, but one of the mates was there, and he addressed his questions to him, not with any great hope of hearing anything important, but determined to lose no chance, however small.  He was startled with a piece of information which gave him such an exquisite pang of delight that he could hardly keep the usual quiet of his demeanor.  A youth corresponding to his description of Myrtle Hazard in her probable disguise had been that morning on board the Swordfish, making many inquires as to the hour at which she was to sail, and who were to be the passengers, and remained some time on board, going all over the vessel, examining her cabin accommodations, and saying he should return to-morrow before she sailed,—­doubtless intending to take passage in her, as there was plenty of room on board.  There could be little question, from the description, who this young person was.  It was a rather delicate—­looking, dark—­haired youth, smooth-faced, somewhat shy and bashful in his ways, and evidently excited and nervous.  He had apparently been to look about him, and would come back at the last moment, just as the vessel was ready to sail, and in an hour or two be beyond the reach of inquiry.

Murray Bradshaw returned to his hotel, and, going to his chamber, summoned all his faculties in state council to determine what course he should follow, now that he had the object of his search certainly within reaching distance.  There was no danger now of her eluding him; but the grave question arose, what was he to do when he stood face to face with her.  She must not go,—­that was fixed.  If she once got off in that ship, she might be safe enough; but what would become of certain projects in which he was interested,—­that was the question.  But again, she was no child, to be turned away from her adventure by cajolery, or by any such threats as common truants would find sufficient to scare them back to their duty.  He could tell the facts of her disguise and the manner of her leaving home to the captain of the vessel, and induce him to send her ashore as a stray girl, to be returned to her relatives.  But this would only make her furious with him; and he must not alienate her from himself, at any rate.  He might plead with her in the name of duty, for the sake of her friends, for the good name of the family.  She had thought all these things over before she ran away.  What if he should address her as a lover, throw himself at her feet, implore her to pity him and give up her rash scheme, and, if things came to the very worst, offer to follow her wherever she went, if she would accept him in the only relation that would render it possible.  Fifteen years old,—­he nearly ten years older,—­but such things had happened before, and this was no time to stand on trifles.