Willing hands seized Minot at opposite poles.
"One—two—" counted the sailormen.
"Well, good night, Mr. Wall," remarked Minot.
"Three!"
A splash, and he was ingloriously in the cold river again. He turned to the accommodation ladder, but quick hands drew it up. Evidently there was nothing to do but return once more to little old New York.
He rested for a moment, treading water, seeing dimly the tall homes of the cave dwellers, and over them the yellow glare of Broadway. Then he struck out. When he reached the shore, and turned, the Lileth was already under way, moving slowly down the silver path of the moon. An old man was launching the padlocked rowboat.
"Great night for a swim," he remarked sarcastically.
"L-lovely," chattered Minot. "Say, do you know anything about the yacht that's just steamed out?"
"Not as much as I'd like ter. Used ter belong to a man in Chicago. Yesterday the caretaker told me she'd been rented fer the winter. Seen him to-night in a gin mill with money to throw to the birds. Looks funny to me."
"Thanks."