Herries nodded. The yacht was only a stone throw away. As he looked, the long black form of the launch shot out from behind the ship, and steamed at full speed up the Thames, in the direction--as it seemed to Herries,--of the waterway which led to the "Marsh Inn."
"That boat can go," he said, wondering what was up.
"Ah, sir, she just can," said one of the boatmen, as the launch sped along scattering the white foam from her sides to glisten in the pale moonlight. "She's been dodging about these waters for the last month or so, racing between Tarhaven and Pierside. She can show a clean pair of heels, like the yacht herself."
"Is she quick?"
The boatman chuckled.
"I should just think so. A mate of mine met one of the engineers, a Scotch chap, and he said that she could steam hell for leather, begging the lady's pardon."
Herries winced. Kyles was extremely unscrupulous, and in a boat of great speed, might not hesitate to keep him a prisoner until much more than four thousand was paid over. He had only to get up steam and slip away in the darkness for South America, and it would be difficult to catch him. However, the adventure was begun and had to be finished, and Herries, believing that his luck had changed with marriage, hoped for the best.
Shortly the boat was longside the yacht, swinging up and down on the tide. Kyles was expecting them, and a rope ladder was lowered. Up this swarmed Herries who was well used to the sea. Ritson came next, but was in a state of terror the whole time owing to the swaying of the rope ladder. Lastly, the boatmen assisted Maud up the steep black side of the yacht. Kyles, who had made no observation when the two men ascended, uttered an exclamation when he saw a woman appear.
"Have you brought your wife, Herries?" he asked, much vexed.
"It's my cousin."