“Not much. This batch had women and children. They were laughing and singing,—mighty fine voices, too. We supposed it was those new cousins of Mrs. Beekman’s from New York.”
“No, not they yet, but there comes a launch now. By Jove, there are women in it too.”
Out of the darkness of the night and the water a launch came swiftly into the broad light of the stream. A moment they showed clear as in daylight to the crowd on the pier, but that was not long enough for any one to recognize those upturned faces before they glided into a shadowy place not far from the other launch.
People watched the new arrival curiously as it discharged its passengers, but they did not come out of the shadow.
Then one man detached himself from the group and advanced into the light in front of Cunningham.
“Well, Cunningham,” he said in a clear voice, “there’s your launch.”
Cunningham stared at him.
“There’s your launch, I say,” repeated the other, thrusting his face forward a little. Still no answer from the bewildered Cunningham, who could not imagine what he was talking about.
The newcomer straightened up and placed his arms akimbo.
“I say,” he repeated again, “that I have brought back your launch. Launch, man, launch! There—is—your—launch!”