"Directly we're outside the lodge gates, drive to The Hut at top speed," he bade the chauffeur as soon as he reached the motor car. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was nearly seven o'clock.
"In a little over four hours I shall have earned Bhagwan Singh's reward," he murmured to himself, as they slid down the avenue.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SLEEPING SNAKE
Captain Brant, of the turbine steam yacht Cobra, walked the spotless deck of his vessel; and he walked slowly, for he was reading a letter which the postman had just brought on board. While he read his hideous features were twisted into the ape-like contortion that did duty with him for a grin. When he had mastered the contents of the missive, he thrust it into the pocket of his brass-buttoned reefer, and shouted for "Mr. Cheeseman."
An answering bawl was heard somewhere forward, and there came running aft the bullet-headed mate who a few days before had at first refused Travers Nugent admission to the ship.
"Know anything about ladies' underclothes?" asked the wicked-looking skipper, with a horrible leer.
"Can't say I do, sir; but if it's in the way of duty I can jolly soon find out," was the brisk reply.
"Yes, it's in the way of duty; and, by the same token, the need for the duds is a sign that we are soon to clear out of this beastly port," said the captain, scratching his chin. "I've heard from the boss—the chap that was here the other day—and it seems that when we start we're to pick up a lady passenger, who will be in too great a hurry to bring her trunks aboard. So we're to buy some things for her, here in Weymouth. I'll give you a ten-pound note, and you can go ashore straight away and buy what's necessary for a three weeks' voyage."