Real persons they certainly were,
and not any ghostly crew of the bygone days of harbour pirates,
for there was every evidence of some one who had gone up and down
the walk recently, not once but many times.
Suddenly Kennedy stumbled over what looked like a sardine tin can,
except that it had no label or trace of one. It was lying in the
thick long matted grass by the side of the walk as if it had
tumbled there and had been left unnoticed.
Yet there was nothing so very remarkable about it in itself. Tin
cans were lying all about, those marks of decadent civilisation.
But to Craig it had instantly presented an idea. It was a new can.
The others were rusted.
He had pried off the lid and inside was a blackish, viscous mass.
"Smoking opium," Craig said at last.
We retraced our steps pondering on the significance of the
discovery.
O'Connor had had men out endeavouring all day to get a clue to the
motor car that had been mentioned in some of the accounts given by
the natives. So far the best he had been able to find was a report
of a large red touring car which crossed from New York on a late
ferry.
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