As has already been mentioned, Leonard Lester was an experienced yachtman. He had for years belonged to a boating club in New York, and the knowledge and experience he had thus gained proved of great practical value in the situation in which he found himself after escaping from the underground retreat of the supposed smugglers.

The yacht he had taken possession of proved to be of good build and excellent sailing qualities. In the course of half an hour Rocky Beach was left several miles behind, and all danger of successful pursuit was for the time being past.

Leonard now conceived the idea of making for the port of Boston. New York would have suited him better, but was too far off.

The sky was clear, the wind was fresh and steady, and no sudden storm or squall seemed likely to arise. The condition could not have been more favorable.

So, calculating his bearings as nearly as possible, he guided his craft in what he deemed the proper direction. The voyage was without noteworthy incident—in fact, it was rather monotonous. Soon after daybreak he had the satisfaction of beholding the spires of the distant city, and about ten o’clock he entered the harbor.

Before approaching the crowd of ships that lay near the wharfs and docks, he bethought himself to examine the yacht thoroughly, and see if he could discover any clew to ownership, or the movements of those who had so recently had it in their possession.

His search resulted in his finding nothing but two cards in a small locker. One of these was printed, and read as follows:

JACOB RUSH.

9 —— Street, Jersey City.

On the other was written, in a scrawling hand: “32 Main street, Dalton.”

These he decided, with a purpose which will appear hereafter, to leave where he had found them.

Then, setting sail directly for the city, he sought a convenient place for landing.

He was accosted by no one save a man in a small boat, who proved to be a custom-house officer. The man asked him some questions, scanned the yacht closely, and then moved off again, satisfied that he was not a runner in of smuggled goods.

Leonard selected a vacant place alongside a low dock, and springing ashore, made his boat fast by a rope.

He looked around him, and saw in the long line of dingy buildings a narrow alley. Through this he made his way, and soon emerged into a busy wholesale street.

His first step was to proceed to a barber’s shop and have his mustache shaved off. Then he purchased a hat and coat of different patterns from those he had been wearing, and donned them. The garments of which he divested himself he tied in a bundle and carried in his hand.

These transactions occupied but little time; they were for the purpose of avoiding ready recognition, for he remembered Snags’ assertion that he was regarded as an accomplice in Carlos’ supposed crime, and it was possible that his appearance and dress had already been telegraphed to officers who might be on the lookout for him.

Next he found his way to the custom-house, and inquired of one of the clerks for the superintendent, or some person in authority.

The clerk silently pointed to a man seated within an inclosure of railing. The man was busily engaged with some papers, and scarcely looked up as Leonard accosted him.

“Can Ihave a few words with you, sir?”

“Yes,” was the reply, delivered with the air of one whose time was precious.

“Ipresume there is a secret detective service connected with this department?”

“Yes.”

“Can you direct me to some reliable, shrewd person engaged in that service?”

The man slowly turned a pair of dull-looking eyes full on Leonard. Yet it was evident that the owner of those dull-looking eyes was accustomed to reading character and forming prompt conclusions. He withdrew his gaze after a moment, and said:

“Second story. Inquire for Mr.Stark.”

He then turned to his work again, and was apparently oblivious of his surroundings.

Leonard proceeded as directed, and found Mr.Stark alone in a small room. The room was compact, neat, and orderly in appearance. On one side was a telegraphic apparatus, and on the other was a desk, surmounted by a case of pigeon-holes, containing letters and papers tied up in bundles. There was a couch and two chairs in the room. One window looked upon the street, and a closed door concealed an adjoining apartment.

Mr.Stark was a man small in stature and unpretending in aspect. His face was smooth, with thin lips, a firm-set mouth, and cool, gray eyes. He was dressed with neat precision.

“Mr. Stark?” inquired Leonard.

“Yes, sir.”

“You are, Ibelieve, connected with the secret detective service.”

“Iam.”

“Can Iconfer with you in reference to engaging your services?”

“My services are not exactly open for engagement,” said Mr.Stark, smiling. “Iam in the employ of the government.”

“Pardon me,” said Leonard. “Perhaps Idid not put the case as Ishould. There is a matter that interests the government—a smuggling case, Iam convinced—but it requires to be managed with caution.”

“We are accustomed to manage things with caution,” was Mr.Stark’s reply.

“Certainly—Iam aware of that—but this case is so complicated with an affair of an entirely different character—and in which Ihave a deep personal interest—that Imust be exceedingly cautious as to whom Itake in my confidence.”

“If you know anything, young man,” rejoined Mr.Stark, “about the illegal running in of any foreign goods, it is your duty to reveal such knowledge.”

“That may be,” replied Leonard; “but Ihave other duties, too. One of them is self-protection. Another is to look out for my friends. Imust be assured of the hearty co-operation of whoever Itake into my confidence, in an endeavor to solve a mystery on which hangs the life of a near and dear relative, as well as to bring to justice these supposed smugglers. The two cases cannot be separated—they must be investigated conjointly. And it may take time.”

“You speak with a good deal of self-confidence, sir. May Iask who you are?”

Leonard handed him his card, and then asked:

“Do you know the firm of Duncan & Mishler, New York?”

“Yes—an importing house. You don’t mean to say that they are the parties?”

“Bless you, no!” exclaimed Leonard. “They are as straight as a string. Iam connected with that firm.”

“Let me see,” said Stark, opening a large book, consulting an index, and turning to a particular page. “Yes—Duncan & Mishler—Leonard Lester, European agent. Well, Iguess, if you are connected with that firm, you can trust me. Go on with your story.”

“It must be confidential, and no steps must be taken without consulting me.”

“Iagree to that.”

“And do you promise not to reveal my identity, or my presence in Boston?”

“Ipromise. But you are very cautious.”

“You will see that Ihave reason to be.”

Leonard thereupon narrated to Mr.Stark the journey of himself and Carlos to Dalton, of their visit, their interview with Colonel Conrad, his own excursion to Rocky Beach, the departure of Carlos in an opposite direction to attend a concert, the capture of himself by Snags, his subsequent experience in the cave, and his escape. He concluded by saying:

“My cousin is now doubtless in jail. The evidence would probably be sufficient to hold him for trial, whether it finally convicted him or not. Snags is the guilty man, though my evidence might not be sufficient to establish that. But he had some object other than robbery. This is proved by his anxiety in regard to the missing fragment of paper. He spoke of a ‘boss’ to whom both he and Roake were subordinate. Who this ‘boss’ is, is the mystery. He is undoubtedly the chief guilty party; for Snags and Roake are not the men to push smuggled goods on the market.”

“No, you are right there. And in regard to the murder, Iagree with you in thinking that it was done for some motive that does not appear on the surface.”

“And, by the way, those cards in the locker of the yacht,” said Leonard; “do you know anything of Jacob Rush, of Jersey City?”

“No, but Iwill inside of twenty-four hours.”

“Thirty-two Main street, Dalton, which was written on the other card, is, as Imentioned, the address of Geoffrey Haywood’s place of business. Iremember the large gilded sign very well. You don’t suppose that villain has anything to do with the smuggling business, do you?”

“Idon’t know, Iam sure. Every clew is worth following up. Why did you leave the cards in the boat, instead of bringing them with you?”

“For two reasons. First, Ithought Iwould leave the yacht in your charge, and let you advertise for an owner, stating that the cards were found in the locker, and mentioning the addresses on them. Some one implicated might then appear to claim it. Second, the taking of the cards would betray the fact that interested parties had the boat in charge. For who would go to the trouble of taking them except somebody that regarded them as of special significance?”

“Well, you are partly right. Iwill advertise the yacht, but will say nothing about the cards. That might put the parties on their guard. We will let them think they have not been noticed. If the right person answers the advertisement, you may be sure that he will search for them when he comes to examine the boat. And I’ll have all his movements watched.”

“Perhaps,” said Leonard, “we can kill two birds with one stone—capture both the murderer and the smugglers.”

“We’ll try,” replied Mr.Stark. “And now, what do you propose to do next?”

“Iwant to go to New York, and see my employers, Duncan & Mishler.”

“But not as you are.”

“Why not?”

“Because, if you are regarded as an accomplice in the murder of Colonel Conrad, you may be arrested at any moment. Your description is probably in the hands of officers now.”

“True. But what is to be done?”

“I’ll disguise you. If Iam not mistaken you have taken some steps in that direction already. You have had your mustache shaved off, and you are wearing strange clothes.”

“How do you know?” exclaimed Leonard, in astonishment.

“You move your upper lip nervously, as if experiencing an unusual sensation, and the coat and hat you have on are new. Besides, there is that bundle under your arm.”

“You are right,” said Leonard, “but Inever would have dreamed——”

“Oh, never mind. We have to train our observing faculties. You won’t do at all, now. I’ll fix you.”

And he conducted Leonard into the room adjoining his office.

When they returned Leonard was transformed into a sanctimonious-looking individual, with gray side-whiskers and hair, a pair of silver-bowed spectacles, a long, well-worn coat, and a hat of the last season’s pattern.

“There!” said Mr.Stark, admiringly, “I’ll risk you anywhere. If anything unlooked-for happens, you are the Reverend Mr.Withers, living at No. —— 12th street, New York. Here, take this cane and volume of commentaries. Ha! ha! you look like a natural-born missionary!”

At this moment there was a knock at the door.

“What’s wanted?” demanded Mr.Stark.

“Here’s your morning paper, sir,” came in a boy’s voice.

“Why didn’t you bring it in sooner?” asked Mr.Stark, opening the door.

“The clerks were reading it, sir.”

“Couldn’t they find anything else to do?”

Without waiting for an answer, he closed the door in the boy’s face, and then ran his eyes down the column of telegraphic reports.

Suddenly he turned to Leonard.

“You say you last heard from your cousin through Mr.Snags, on the day the examination was in progress.”

“Yes,” replied Leonard.

“Read that.”

Leonard took the paper, and, at a spot indicated by Mr.Stark’s thumb, saw among the latest dispatches the following paragraph:

“HILLSDALE, Aug. 29.—Charles Conrad, charged with the murder of Col. Wm. Conrad, of Dalton, made his escape while coming here on the cars last night in charge of a constable. He is slightly below the medium height, with blue eyes and a light mustache. Alarge reward is offered for his capture.”

Leonard stared at these words in dumb amazement. He read them over twice before speaking. Then he turned to Mr.Stark.

“What is to be done?” he asked.

“Nothing, by you,” replied the gentleman, quite composed, “except to give me a very particular and exact description of his personal appearance.”

Leonard having given the desired description, Mr.Stark said:

“Now leave everything to me for a short time. My chance of capturing your cousin is as good as that of any one else. I’ll send telegrams to some of my associates, and he may come to no harm. But whatever may be the result, you can do nothing. Remember that, and go on to New York. Of course you must tell Duncan & Mishler everything, and Ihope they are discreet men. It might be well for you to drop around to No. —— 12th street to-morrow morning, and, if Ihave occasion to communicate with you, you will find a message there for the Reverend Mr.Withers. They’ll know you. And now, good-day. Ihave other business on hand. Ithink the next train will bring you to New York about eight o’clock this evening.”

Leonard passed out of Mr.Stark’s office, went down stairs and into the street, and made his way to the railroad depot.

He took the train for New York, where he arrived in due time. Here a great surprise awaited him.