The detective had weighed well the words of the beautiful
Renie, and was on the watch. Her suggestion was apt, and, as
the detective thought over matters, he came to think that
certain little indexes pointed toward a confirmation of her
suspicions.
Indeed, it was an awful peril he was facing, were it really a
fact that the men had "tumbled" to his identity, and were
giving him a "blind," leading him, only waiting for the proper
moment to cast off their masks and throw him into the sea.
There was one incident in his favor: the men were not at all
reserved in the discussion of the business on hand. They
talked over the purpose of the night, and opened up their
expectations in the most unreserved manner.
The master of the craft, in his orders, made no distinction
between our hero and the other members of the crew.
Meantime the boat danced over the waves, and, after an hour or
two, was cruising across the track of inward-bound vessels.
Soon there came the announcement of the lights of a vessel,
and the "Nancy" was cautiously run on a course which would
enable her captain to take observations.
The lights proved to be those of an ocean steamer, and the
great leviathan, with its precious freight of human souls,
plowed past the taut little yacht distant only half a mile.
When the lights were first seen, the detective was standing
forward of the mainmast, and suddenly a pallor overspread his
face. If it should prove that the lights were those of an
incoming smuggler, the critical moment had arrived for him.
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