ven at the consulate nothing was known of Mr. Goddedaal. The doctor
of the _Tempest_ had certified him very sick; he had sent his papers in,
but never appeared in person before the authorities.

"Have you a telephone laid on to the _Tempest_?" asked Pinkerton.

"Laid on yesterday," said the clerk.

"Do you mind asking, or letting me ask? We are very anxious to get hold
of Mr. Goddedaal."

"All right," said the clerk, and turned to the telephone. "I'm sorry,"
he said presently, "Mr. Goddedaal has left the ship, and no one knows
where he is."

"Do you pay the men's passage home?" I inquired, a sudden thought
striking me.

"If they want it," said the clerk; "sometimes they don't. But we paid
the Kanaka's passage to Honolulu this morning; and by what Captain Trent
was saying, I understand the rest are going home together."

"Then you haven't paid them?" said I.

"Not yet," said the clerk.

"And you would be a good deal surprised if I were to tell you they were
gone already?" I asked.

"O, I should think you were mistaken," said he.

"Such is the fact, however," said I.

"I am sure you must be mistaken," he repeated.

"May I use your telephone one moment?" asked Pinkerton; and as soon as
permission had been granted, I heard him ring up the printing-office
where our advertisements were usually handled. More I did not hear, for,
suddenly recalling the big bad hand in the register of the What Cheer
House, I asked the consulate clerk if he had a specimen of Captain
Trent's writing. Whereupon I learned that the captain could not write,
having cut his hand open a little before the loss of the brig; that the
latter part of the log even had been written up by Mr. Goddedaal; and
that Trent had always signed with his left hand. By the time I had
gleaned this information Pinkerton was ready.

"That's all that we can do. Now for the schooner," said he; "and by
to-morrow evening I lay hands on Goddedaal, or my name's not Pinkerton."

"How have you managed?" I inquired.

"You'll see before you get to bed," said Pinkerton. "And now, after all
this backwarding and forwarding, and that hotel clerk, and that bug
Bellairs, it'll be a change and a kind of consolation to see the
schooner. I guess things are humming there."

But on the wharf, when we reached it, there was no sign of bustle, and,
but for the galley smoke, no mark of life on the _Norah Creina_.
Pinkerton's face grew pale and his mouth straightened as he leaped