Lord Monckton had not returned to the hotel. Good. More telephoning.
Yes, the great railroad terminals had ten men each. A black-bearded
man with scarred fingers.
Haggerty was really a fine general; he directed his army with
shrewdness and little or no waste. The Jersey side was watched, East
and North Rivers. The big ships Haggerty himself undertook.
From half after nine that night till noon the next day, without sleep
or rest or food, excepting a cup of coffee and a sandwich, which, to a
man of Haggerty's build, wasn't food at all, he searched. Each time he
left the motor-car, the chauffeur fell asleep. Haggerty reasoned in
this wise: There were really but two points of departure for a man in
Mason's position, London or South America. Ten men, vigilant and
keen-eyed, were watching all fruiters and tramps which sailed for the
Caribbean.
It came to the last boat. Haggerty, in each case, had not gone aboard
by way of the passengers' gangplank; not he. He got aboard secretly
and worked his way up from hold to boat-deck. His chance lay in
Mason's curiosity. It would be almost impossible for the man not to
watch for his ancient enemy.
At two minutes to twelve, as the whistle boomed its warning to visitors
to go ashore, Haggerty put his hard-palmed hand on Mason's shoulder.
The man, intent on watching the gangplank, turned quickly, sagged, and
fell back against the rail.
"Come along," said Haggerty, not unkindly.
Mason sighed. "One question. Did Mr. Crawford advise you where to
look for me?"
"No. I found you myself, Mr. Mason; all alone. It was a sporting
proposition; an' you'd have won out if y' hadn't been human like
everybody else, an' watched for me. Come along!"