Part 33 (1/2)
The man's cry as he struck the water alarmed the crowd and caused a momentary stampede, in which Cherry and Boyd were thrust sh.o.r.eward; but the confusion quickly subsided, as an officer flung a heaving-line to the gasping creature beneath. A moment later the hatless spy was dragged to the dock, indignant and sputtering.
”I'm very sorry, sir.” Boyd apologized, profusely. ”It was all my fault.
The plank was steep, and I was forced off my feet. Whenever I'm followed too closely, I lose my head--it's a weakness I have.”
The man ceased cursing to dart a sharp glance at him, but he was still too unmanned by his cold immersion to do more than chatter angrily. In the hubbub Emerson led his companion out into the street, where she beheld him shaking with suppressed laughter.
”Boyd,” she cried, in a shocked voice, ”then it was--you--you might have killed him! Suppose his head had struck a timber!”
”Yes, that would have been too bad!” he declared; then, at the sight of her face, his chuckle changed to a wolfish snarl. ”He'll know enough to keep away from me hereafter. I won't play with him the next time.”
”Don't! Don't! I never saw you look so. Why, it might have been murder!”
”Well?” He stared at her, curiously.
”I--I didn't think it of you.” She shuddered weakly, but he only shrugged his shoulders and said, with a finality that cut off further discussion: ”He's a spy! I won't be spied upon.”
When Boyd entered his room at the hotel, whither he had gone after leaving Cherry at Hilliard's bank, Big George greeted him excitedly.
”Here's h.e.l.l to pay. We can't get that barkentine.”
”The _Margaret?_ Why not? The charter was all arranged.”
”The agent telephoned that we couldn't have her.”
”What reasons did he offer?”
”None. We can't have her, that's all.”
”She's the only available s.h.i.+p on the Sound. Our stuff will be here in a fortnight.”
”Some of it will.”
”What do you--?”
”Boilers held up.”
”Boilers?”
”Yes. Read that.” Balt tossed him a telegram.
”'s.h.i.+pment delayed,'” read Boyd. ”Well! This is growing interesting. Thank Heaven, other people handle machinery!” He reached for a blank, and hurriedly wrote a message cancelling his order. ”I guess Cherry was right.
Marsh is fighting to delay us.” He began a recital of the morning's occurrences, but before he had finished he was called to the telephone.
”More bad news!” he exclaimed, as he re-entered the room. ”The Jackson- Nebur Company say they can't make delivery of their order. I wonder what next.”
”We don't need nothing more to cripple us,” George declared, blankly. ”Any one of these blows is a knockout.”
It was perhaps an hour later that Cherry entered unannounced.