for several minutes; then he realized his only hope of safety was to make for the yacht half a mile away, a heap nearer than the shore. So he struck out and made it by the hardest.
"As soon as that bird told his tale, they got him to his bunk, for he did seem all in, and then the Commodore started to investigate. He sent another boat over to the supposed scene of the collision, but not a sign of anything was in sight—not a plank floating on the water so far as they could make out. Then they came over here and sent a message to the sheriff to be on the lookout and make every effort to recover the body."
"I've seen the boat," blurted out Hardy, who had been listening with deep absorption.
"The mischief you have!" exclaimed the operator, his eyes popping. "Where?"
Hardy recounted the story of the discovery on Knott's Island.
"The darn crook!" the operator burst out when he had heard him through. "That makes it clear as day. It was a frame-up."
"What does it all mean?" Hardy wanted to know.
