“Kidding you!” cried Betty, biting into a generous sandwich. “If you knew how we felt toward you at this moment—if you knew how like an angel you appear to us! Oh, but real food does taste good!”
“I ought to have got here before this,” said Pierce, as Betty and I devoted ourselves to nourishment, “but first Riordan had me locked in the engine-room, and then Brack had me there, and this was the first chance for a getaway I had.”
“Begin at the beginning,” I commanded, opening the asparagus. “We don’t know a thing except that when we came back the other night the yacht was gone.”
“And roll yourself a cigaret, do,” supplemented Betty.
“Aw—aw, I guess I can get along without smoking,” said Pierce lamely.
“Roll a cigaret,” repeated Betty. “Then tell us—about everything. And how is George—Mr. Chanler?”
XXXIV
“The boss is all right,” was Pierce’s prompt response, as he began to manufacture his cigaret. “Yes, sir, he’s all right, but he ain’t letting Brack know it. He’s a reg’lar guy, the boss is, after all.”
“Of course,” I said. “But begin at the beginning.”
“All right.”