“Watch your step, handsome. Tux doesn’t like unexpected visitors. He’s tough.”
“I’ll watch out,” Ken said, and walked out into the drizzling rain.
He found a dinghy berthed under the jetty. A rod, can of bait, an oilskin and oars lay in the bottom of the boat. He swung himself down into the boat, cast off and began to row towards the distant light that she had told him was North End.
It seemed to him he rowed for a long time before he saw some way ahead of him the shadowy outlines of a cruiser, silhouetted against the dark skyline.
Ken rested on the oars and watched it, wondering if it were the Willow Point. As he sat in the gently bobbing boat he heard the sound of a distant motorboat engine. He looked quickly across the waterfront, half a mile from him.
He saw a powerful motorboat leaving the jetty. It headed towards him. He wondered in alarm if it were a police boat. He began to row away from the course set by the motorboat, then shipping his oars, he crouched down in the boat so his head and shoulders weren’t outlined against the skyline.
He watched the approaching motorboat anxiously.
It was coming fast, but he saw with relief it would pass him by some three or four hundred yards unless it altered course.
The boat roared past him, and its wash sent his boat bouncing violently.
He heard the engine suddenly cut out. The motorboat vanished into the darkness of the cruiser’s side.