ect that for a moment the old gentleman seemed
undecided whether to trust me or not. But my voice, when I spoke,
reassured him, and then we set to work carrying the bags of spurious
money down to the boat. As soon as this was accomplished we stepped in.
I seated myself amid-ships and got out the oars, Mr. Wetherell taking
the yoke-lines in the stern. Then we shoved off, and made our way out
into the harbour.

It was a dull, cloudy night, with hardly a sign of a star in the whole
length and breadth of heaven, while every few minutes a cold, cheerless
wind swept across the water. So chilly indeed was it that before we had
gone very far I began to wish I had added an overcoat to my other
disguises. We hardly spoke, but pulled slowly down towards the island
mentioned in the letter. The strain on our nerves was intense, and I
must confess to feeling decidedly nervous as I wondered what would
happen if the police boat did not pull up to meet us, as we had that
morning arranged.

A quarter to ten chimed from some church ashore as we approached within
a hundred yards of our destination. Then I rested on my oars and waited.
All round us were the lights of bigger craft, but no rowing-boat could I
see. About five minutes before the hour I whispered to Wetherell to make
ready, and in answer the old gentleman took a matchbox from his pocket.
Exactly as the town clocks struck the hour he lit a vesta; it flared a
little and then went out. As it did so a boat shot out of the darkness
to port. He struck a second, and then a third. As the last one burned up
and then died away, the man rowing the boat I have just referred to
struck a light, then another, then another, in rapid succession. Having
finished his display, he took up his oars and propelled his boat towards
us. When he was within talking distance he said in a gruff voice:

"Is Mr. Wetherell aboard?"

To this my companion immediately answered, with a tremble in his voice,
"Yes, here I am!"

"Money all right?"

"Can you see if I hold it up?" asked Mr. Wetherell. As he spoke a long,
black boat came into view on the other side of our questioner, and
pulled slowly towards him. It was the police boat.

"No, I don't want to see," said the voice again. "But this is the
message I was to give you. Pull in towards Circular Quay and find the
_Maid of the Mist_ barque. Go aboard her, and take your money down into
the cuddy. There you'll get your answer."

"Nothing more?" cried Mr.