"
"You'll be a tight fit in the launch," said Mr. Johnston. "Miss
Farr's down 'ere somewhere. I saw her pass."
"Miss Farr!" The professor's ungallant horror was all too patent. He
turned haunted eyes toward the second nail keg, now plainly visible
and unoccupied.
"Missy in boat. She waitee. No likee!" said the Chinaman, speaking
for the first time.
"But," began the professor, and then, seeing the appreciative grin
upon Mr. Johnston's speaking countenance, he continued blandly--
"Very well, let us not keep the lady waiting. Especially as she
doesn't like it. Take this bag, my man, it's light. I'll carry the
other."
With no words, and no apparent effort, the old man picked up both
bags and shuffled off. The professor followed. At the end of the
wharf there were steps and beneath the steps a small floating
platform to which was secured what the professor afterwards
described as "a marine vehicle, classification unknown." Someone,
girl or woman, hidden in a loose, green coat, was already seated
there. A pair of dark eyes looked up impatiently.
"I am afraid you were not expecting me," said the professor. "I am
Hamilton Spence. Your father--"
"You're getting your feet wet," said the person in the coat. "Please
jump in."
The professor jumped. He hadn't jumped since the sciatica and he
didn't do it gracefully. But it landed him in the boat. The Chinaman
was already in his place. A rattle and a roar arose, the air turned
suddenly to gasoline and they were off.
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