“The man must be a fine swimmer. In some manner he swam under water after falling into the canal until the darkness of the place hid him completely.”
“It was a bad thing—a very bad thing,” agreed the professor. “The man was a wretch, a scoundrel, a villain!”
“Which sure are too soft names for him,” growled Buckhart.
The two gondolas were now side by side.
“Quite true, quite true,” agreed the excitable old man. “I found it out. But I couldn’t refuse to help a man in distress, you know. I helped him on board. He managed to pick up the oar. Then, using his uninjured hand, he rowed. I urged him to take me back to find you. He cursed me. He told me to keep still or he would cut my heart out. My goodness! I didn’t want him to do that! I kept still.”
“A most natural thing to do,” said Dick.
“I am glad you say so—very glad. Hum! ha! My position was unpleasant—decidedly so. But I kept still. He handled the gondola. He did it cleverly. But he lost no time in dodging into another canal. I remonstrated. I told him I did not like the place. It was too dark. He invited me to be quiet. I relapsed into silence. Here and there in the darkness he went. At last he stopped. He ordered me to land. I was compelled to do so. I didn’t dare raise another remonstrance. He left me. I was in a scrape. Ha! hum! It was a very bad scrape.”
Plainly the professor was very anxious to set himself right in the eyes of the boys.
“After that?” questioned Dick.
“When he left me he told me if I raised a rumpus he would come back and slice me. I couldn’t get away, and I had no weapon to protect myself, so I was compelled to be quiet. I remained there until this gondola came past. Then I applied to the gondolier. Since that time I have been searching to find that canal where you were. That is all.”