Inspector Whyland smiled as he rose to take his departure. “I’m so certain that the black sailor will never be found that I would willingly double the reward out of my own pocket,” he said. “He’s a myth, originating in the fertile imagination of that young scoundrel Wal Snyder. Well, good night, Mr. Ludgrove. Let me know if you hear any useful hint, won’t you?”

It was not until he was some yards down the street that he laughed shortly to himself. “That old chap suspects Copperdock as much as I do,” he muttered. “But if it is Copperdock, what the devil is his game, I wonder?”