Captain Ichabod Jones stepped briskly into Squire Chadwick's courtroom—which was otherwise the parlor in his modest home. Van Dusen, that very shrewd detective, observed that the old man trod with a jauntier step than heretofore, and that his expression was one of smug complacency. He wondered a little as to just what might have occurred to make this change so swiftly. He could not guess that a romance of twenty years was concerned, but his observant eyes told him that in some mysterious fashion this aged native had found a new happiness in life within the hour.

That happiness indeed was a thing assured in the opinion of Captain Ichabod. The smile that Van Dusen found so hard to interpret was the outward expression of great things within the old man's soul. He had loved his loneliness. Now, he was rejoicing that no more would his life be lonely! The gulls and fish-hawks and sand-crabs could take possession of the old shack that had sheltered him for years. He cared nothing for that. Shortly, he would be known as Ichabod Jones, proprietor of a fashionable tourist hotel. He chuckled, and his lips moved into the travesty of a kiss.

"I'm a-sayin' good-bye to that-thar hermit o' Captain Icky's Island, what lived thar fer twenty year. He hain't a-goin' to live thar no more."

The warrant was speedily signed and duly sworn to, after which Van Dusen and Captain Jones hurried to board the yacht. The two chartered motor boats arrived. Since The Hialdo had the legs of the others, it took both in tow to bring them to the point whereat the search was to start. On reaching the Island, the red skiff also was taken in tow at Ichabod's suggestion, since its draft would permit it to penetrate shallows impenetrable to the other craft.

At a point midway between Harker's Island and Smyrna, Uncle Ichabod directed that one of the chartered boats should be sent over and along the shores of the Island, then to proceed up the Banks shore, but not so far as to prevent the deputy from covering the southerly section of Core Sound with his field-glasses in order to detect any attempt to retrace the route by the Doctor in the tender. This launch having been dispatched, The Hialdo resumed her course, with the other boats still in tow.

The next objective in the cruise was Atlantic—a long way up the Sound. Thence, it was the intention to send the other chartered boat back along the westerly shore, with instructions to go into every inlet and cove and bay, no matter how small, provided they could navigate it, there to make diligent inquiry of every person seen on the shores.

Van Dusen had already prepared reward notices, offering five thousand dollars for the safe return of Ethel Marion, and one thousand dollars for the capture of her abductor. These posters were given to the deputies with instructions that they should be posted in every fishing hamlet. It was the belief of the detective that the effect of these would be to send out a swarm of fishing boats to search every nook and cranny of the territory.

Before turning in from the main channel to the pier at Atlantic, Van Dusen had the second patrol boat turned loose under the charge of his deputy. He gave instructions that four blasts of the yacht's siren should be understood as a signal for the smaller craft to return to The Hialdo.

It was learned beyond doubt at Atlantic that the Doctor and Ethel had been there. There were a score of witnesses to the fact. The entire hamlet was loud in its praises of this stranger, who, by his skill, had saved a life without thought of fee. Captain Ichabod's anxious inquiries elicited the information that there was indeed a Dominick rooster aboard the tender, perched on the forward deck. One boy, of a fine imaginative mind, declared that the bird was tethered by a string tied to one of his legs. That false information stirred the wrath of Uncle Icky, so that he was moved to mutter:

"Yep, I reckin they're a-savin' 'im fer broth—consarn 'em!"

At the principal store in the town, soon after the arrival of the yacht, there was a scene of unusual excitement. Conspicuously posted was the notice typewritten by Van Dusen of the reward for Doctor Garnet's capture. But here sentiment was overwhelmingly strong in the physician's favor. A local orator made an impassioned speech to defend this wonderful physician, who had shown such ability in saving of life without charge. He insisted that the townsfolk should throw out the "furriners" who desired the arrest of such a man.

Van Dusen was in a desperate hurry, but when he sensed the feeling of the crowd, he was at pains to tell them, very simply, the facts. He declared that, in all probability, the physician who had been guilty of the kidnapping was a crazy man.

After touching at Atlantic, it was decided to sail the yacht to the northward, along the mainland shore, with the little red skiff still in tow. There was more depth of water on this side and, in consequence, a larger number of inhabited points, from which news might be gathered. At the end, there was a lighthouse, where the keeper would have seen every boat that passed.

The yacht stopped at the Squire Goodwin landing. There they learned of the recent presence of the physician and his patient. Thence, they went on to the lighthouse, where they were reassured by the keeper's firm assertion that the tender had not passed. It seemed to Van Dusen now that the little boat must be bottled up, so that its discovery and capture could be only a matter of a few hours. But there still remained one tract to be explored.

For the voyaging over these shallows, the red skiff was needed. The three men entered it, cast off from the yacht, hoisted sail, and set forward toward the desolate land of the sand dunes, the wild ponies, the goats and the beach-combers.... And it was Captain Ichabod who sat in the stern, handling proudly both sheets and tiller.