Page:The Unspeakable Gentleman (IA unspeakablegent00marq).pdf/124

 crews were busy with the rigging. Out further towards the broad curve of the horizon was the white smear of a sail, and as I looked, I could see the lines beneath the canvas. He was right. It was a sloop, running free with the tide pushing her on.

"Yes," I said, "I know the boat, though I do not see why she is putting in."

"Ah," said my father, "and do you not? And whose boat may she be, Henry?"

"Two days ago she sailed from Boston for France. She belongs to Jason Hill," I told him; and, a little puzzled, I looked again at the low dunes and the marshes by the harbor mouth.

"I think," my father murmured half to himself, "that perhaps after all I should have killed him. Brutus!"

Brutus, who had watched the scene with the same aloof politeness that he might have watched guests at the dinner table, moved quickly forward.

"Has no word come yet?"

Brutus grinned and shook his head.

"The devil," said my father. "Aiken was here last evening, and got the message I left him?"

Brutus nodded, and my father compressed his lips. Apparently deep in thought, he