his engines. The three limp watchers were taken aboard.
"Wha—what does this mean?" chattered Minot.
"You poor devils," said Martin Wall. "Come and have a drink. Mean?" He poured. "It means that the only way I could get rid of our friend Trimmer was to set out for New York."
"For New York?" cried Minot, standing glass in hand.
"Yes. Came on board. Trimmer did, searched the boat, and then declared I'd shipped George away until his visit should be over. So he and his friends—one of them the chief of police, by the way—sat down to wait for your return. Gad—I thought of you out in that rain. Sat and sat and sat. What could I do?"
"To Trimmer, the brute," said Paddock, raising his glass.
"Finally I had an idea. I had the boys pull up anchor and start the engines. Trimmer wanted to know the answer. 'Leaving for New York to-night,' I said. 'Want to come along?' He wasn't sure whether he would go or not, but his
