“Just wait till I punch the clock,” said Porter to Orme.
“Punch the clock? Oh, I see; the government times you.”
“Yes.”
Porter went into the station for a moment; then, returning, he exchanged a few words with the relief and led Orme down to the breakwater. The launch which was moored there proved to be a sturdy boat, built for strength rather than for speed.
Orme cast off while Porter removed the tarpaulin from the motor and made ready to turn the wheel over.
“Is the policeman still busy with the Jap?” Orme questioned suddenly.
“Yes.”
“He won’t get anything out of him,” said Orme—“except fairy-stories.”
Porter started the motor and stepped forward to the steering-wheel. Slowly the launch pushed out into the open lake, and the lights of the shore receded.
No sound had come from the disabled boat since its motor stopped. Doubtless it was too far off for the noise of repairs to be heard on the shore. Orme peered over the dark surface of the water, but he could see nothing except the lights of a distant steamer.