CHAPTER VIII
The "Titania" Sails
Filled with the deepest apprehensions concerning the fate of hischum, Bobby Beverley was not content to think. He acted.
As it was yet early in the morning, and a Sunday, there were no signsof activity in the yacht-yard. The night watchman, his duties overwith the rising of the sun, had taken himself home; the watchkeeperson board the various craft were still sleeping soundly in theknowledge that there was no pressing need for them to turn out.
Slipping over the side, Beverley gained the wharf. There were nosigns of a struggle, and the hoar-frost that covered the tarredplanking was destitute of human or canine foot-prints. Only a numberof triangular marks on the white covering showed that sea-birds hadbeen waddling about the jetty.
Suddenly Beverley caught sight of a crumpled paper that had wedged ina projection of a heap of rusty iron. It was the telegraph-form thatVilliers had gone ashore to receive when he was struck down by acowardly blow. On it were the words:--
"Harborough, yacht _Titania_. Cannot keep appointment Monday. Will Tuesday same time suit? "Heatherington."
"H'm; no postmark," commented Bobby. "Looks like a plant. Wonder ifthis has anything to do with Villiers' absence?"
Folding the crumpled paper, Beverley placed it carefully in hispocket-book. Then, making his way across the encumbered yard, hestopped outside the manager's office. As he expected, the door waslocked securely, but Beverley was not going to stick at trifles.
With a piece of iron-bar he deliberately smashed a pane of glass.Then inserting his hand through the jagged pane he shot back thewindow-catch. It was then an easy matter to gain admittance.
He lifted the receiver of the telephone, and in less than a minuteand a half he had secured a trunk-call to Thalassa Towers.
"Hallo!" exclaimed a faint and indistinct voice.
"That Harborough?" inquired Bobby. "Beverley speaking."
"No, I'm Claverhouse, old bean," was the reply. "Why this activity onthe Sabbath morn? Anything wrong?"
"Yes," replied Beverley. "Jack's missing--Jack Villiers. Eh? what'sthat? No, I didn't say--Oh! Dash it all, they've cut me off."
He replaced the receiver and again rang up the exchange, demandingperemptorily why the interruption had occurred.
"You must have cut yourself off," replied the operator. "Stand by."
Bobby "stood by" for another five minutes--minutes that passed withleaden feet.
"There's no reply," came the matter-of-fact voice of the exchangeoperator. "This is Andover speaking."
"I say!" exclaimed Beverley in desperation. "Can you send an expressmessenger to Thalassa Towers?"
"Sorry," was the calm reply. "You must try a post office. It opens atnine on Sundays."
Beverley replaced the receiver with a vicious bang. Then he rang upagain, this time obtaining a call to the yard-manager's privatehouse.
That functionary's temper was far from amiable when he found himselfcalled from his bed, in the early hours of a chilly late-autumnmorning, to receive a bald announcement from the intruder's own lipsthat the latter had deliberately broken a window in the office andhad temporarily installed himself.
"There's no need to bring a policeman along with you," added Beverleyreassuringly, "but come as soon as possible. No, I've disturbednothing. There's no cause for alarm as far as you are concerned."
Bobby replaced the instrument and sat down in the padded-leatherarm-chair, the while keeping a look-out upon the _Titania_.
In about twenty minutes the manager arrived, unkempt and unshorn. Tohim Beverley explained the situation, requesting that someone couldbe sent either in a car or on a motor-cycle to inform Sir HughHarborough of the grave news.
"Have you informed the police?" asked the manager, the while covertlyglancing round the room to assure himself that nothing had beentampered with.
"I'd rather wait till I've seen Sir Hugh," replied Bobby. "Of coursethe whole thing may turn out to be a mare's nest; but the dog----"
"Where is the dog?" asked the manager.
"On the mud--dead."
"Wouldn't it be as well to recover the body," suggested the nowinterested man. "That might afford some information. I'll hang onhere."
Beverley fell in with the idea. Procuring a boat-hook from the yacht,he succeeded in recovering the Aberdeen's body and laid it on theraft.
Just as he had completed the task there came the hoot of a car, and aminute later Harborough appeared accompanied by Claverhouse,O'Loghlin, Fontayne, Swaine, and Trevear.
Harborough had received a portion of Bobby's telephonic message, fromwhich he concluded that something was amiss; and without delay thesix men drove at record speed to Southampton.
"Something decidedly wrong," declared Harborough, as he descended tothe raft and examined the body of his pet. The dog's mouth wasinflamed and discoloured. Death had been caused not by drowning butby poison.
Beverley handed his chief the telegram.
"Fake," declared Harborough promptly. "I know no one of the name ofHeatherington; still less have I an appointment with him. I'd like tomeet the fellow who composed this," he added.
A thorough examination of the _Titania_ resulted in nothing of asuspicious nature being discovered. Assuming on the strength of thefaked telegram and the poisoned dog that there had been an attempt atmurder, kidnapping, or sabotage, there was nothing on board tojustify the assumption that an effort had been made to injure thevessel.
"I don't see why Villiers was singled out for rough treatment,"observed Harborough. "He had no personal enemies, had he?"
Beverley shook his head.
"Not to my knowledge," he replied. "Jack is one of the best,absolutely."
"Perhaps you were the intended victim," suggested Claverhouse.
"Oh!" ejaculated Harborough. "I won't contradict your supposal; buton what grounds, might I ask, do you make your assumption?"
"The faked message was addressed to you," replied Alec.
"Perhaps you're right," replied Harborough thoughtfully. "But itdoesn't say much for the other fellows' intelligencedepartment--mistaking Villiers for me. However, we must inform thepolice."
"The police?" echoed Beverley, bearing in mind Sir Hugh's reluctanceon a previous occasion to communicate with the law.
"Unfortunately, yes," replied the baronet. "It is regrettable from aprofessional point of view, but we owe it to Jack Villiers. Hallo!The _Geier_ has gone."
The Swedish-owned tramp had vanished from her accustomed berth. Inher place lay a vessel very similar, even to the funnel-markings.
"Suppose you didn't notice her go down stream, Beverley?" inquiredHarborough.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Bobby. "A tramp like her went out thismorning--the _Zug_ of Malmo."
"Possibly the same old hooker," commented Harborough. "Well, let'smake for the police-station."
Three days passed. The mystery of Jack Villiers' disappearanceremained unsolved. A police-inspector called upon Kristian Borgen inhis office, but the Swede gave a complete explanation of hismovements. It was true, he stated, that the _Geier_ was bought by hisfirm and that her name was changed to _Zug_--a fact advertisedbeforehand in the press according to the requirements of the BritishMercantile Shipping Act. The _Zug_ had sailed for the Baltic and wasdue at Stockholm on the 30th inst. Her clearance-papers were quite inorder.
The inspector, fully convinced that he had been put on a false trail,shook hands with Borgen, apologizing for having inconvenienced him,to which the amiable Swede replied that it was no inconveniencewhatsoever, and that he was only too happy at all times to assist thelaw of the land that had offered him a temporary home.
Meanwhile there was no cessation of activity in the work of fittingout the _Titania_. Everyone on board realized that Villiers wouldhave wished it so. But there was a feeling of depression that it wasimpossible to shake off. The uncertainty of Jack Villiers' fate, onthe eve of what promised to be a successful enterpris
e, cast a shadowof gloom upon the proceedings.
The day of the _Titania's_ departure having been fixed, Harboroughsaw no insurmountable reason for postponing it, and the rest of thecrew agreed with him.
"If Villiers does turn up," he explained, "he can join us anywherebetween here and Singapore; and delay will only mean increasing riskson the score of bad weather, to say nothing of the possibility of ourrivals turning up before us."
So at 9 a.m., early in the month of November, the yacht _Titania_,Hugh Harborough, Master, slipped her moorings, and at a modest sixknots dropped down Southampton Water on her long voyage to thePacific. There were two absentees from her full complement, JackVilliers was one, the other was Dick Beverley. An epidemic of mumpswas raging in the school, and a swollen face intervened between Dickand a visit to the enchanting South Seas.