Cooke brushed himself off, picked up the glasses which he had dropped
in his flight and pushed them into my hands. Then he pointed lakeward
with bulging eyes.
"Crocker, old man," he said in a loud whisper, "they tell me that is an
Asquith cat-boat."
I followed his finger and saw for the first time a sail-boat headed for
the island, then about two miles off shore. I raised the glasses.
"Yes," I said, "the Scimitar."
"That's what Farrar said," cried he.
"And what about it?" I asked.
"What about it?" he ejaculated. "Why, it's a detective come for Allen.
I knew sure as hell if they got as far as Asquith they wouldn't stop
there. And that's the fastest sail-boat he could hire there, isn't it?"
I replied that it was. He seized me by the shoulder and began dragging
me up the bank.
"What are you going to do?" I cried, shaking myself loose.
"We've got to get on the Maria and run for it," he panted. "There is no
time to be lost."
He had reached the top of the bank and was running towards the group at
the tents. And he actually infused me with some of his red-hot
enthusiasm, for I hastened after him.
"But you can't begin to get the Maria out before they will be in here,"
I shouted.
He stopped short, gazed at the approaching boat, and then at me.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, of course," said I, "they will be here in ten minutes."
The Celebrity stood in the midst of the excited Four.
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