The men assented and took the money given them, hurrying away. Craven Black walked in an opposite direction, and was soon lost to view.
Lord Towyn turned his gaze on the yacht. He saw that a man had been left in charge of the yacht, for the captain stood on the deck smoking a pipe.
A waterman was rowing along the river near the wharves, and Lord Towyn signalled him. He came up swiftly to the edge of the wharf upon which the young earl stood, and doffed his tarpaulin.
“Row me out to the yacht yonder,” said Lord Towyn, springing into the boat. “I’ll board her on the further side.”
He sat down and the waterman pulled lustily out into the stream. In a very brief space of time the boat had crept into the shadow of the yacht on its further side, and the young earl climbed lightly to the deck.
The captain approached him, scowling.
“Hallo, you there; what do you want?” he demanded gruffly. “This here’s a private yacht, sir.”
“So I supposed,” said his lordship coolly. “It belongs to Mr. Craven Black, doesn’t it?”
The pipe fell from the captain’s hands. He changed color.
“I don’t know as it makes no difference who it belongs to,” he said blustering. “I work for pay, and it makes no difference to nobody who I work for. Get out of this, young man!”