“Down home,” was the reply, “to say good-bye to his people. We thought of starting at midnight to-morrow, but, of course, this job”—pointing to the corpse of the footman—“will delay us for several days. There will have to be an inquest, and no end of fuss before we can get away.”
“I wish I were coming with you,” Oswyn said impulsively.
“I wish you were, old chap,” Garth agreed; “but I suppose it’s impossible?”
“Utterly,” replied the doctor; “the practice would go to beggary were I away for a month or two, just now. All the same, you have my best wishes for the success of your trip. May you return safe and sound!”
“Thanks, old man; I sincerely hope we shall.”
Moving to the winch, Garth closed the gates of the dock; then, leaving the Yankee, at his own request, on guard, the rest of the party adjourned to the house to finish their interrupted meal, and to seek a much-needed rest.
As they went, the inventor pondered over an idea of Haverly’s.
“Say, Garth,” the millionaire had remarked, as the party passed out of the yard, “if you’re wanting a name for your boat, I guess you might do worse than call it the Seal.”
“Seal it shall be,” Garth muttered to himself, and so it was.