At the foot of One Hundred and Eightieth Street Dick and the old sea dog found a small motorboat in waiting.
"Is this the launch of the Princess?" asked Dick of the man in charge.
"No, it's a public launch, but I can take you out to her in it. There's the yacht, out there. A gentleman on board told me he was expecting a visitor, and I said I'd wait around and bring him out. Are you the one?"
"I expect so," answered the young millionaire, and his eyes were taking in the details of the yacht Princess. He did not like her, at first view. She was too small, and there was none of that trimness about her which marked the Albatross.
"That's nothing but a dinghy with an engine in her," was the contemptuous remark of Widdy, as he relighted his short pipe, which was assuming a black hue, like unto the one he had smashed on deck.
"Well, we'll go aboard," decided Dick. "I want to hear what Mr. Blake has to say."
A few minutes later he and the old salt were ascending the accommodation ladder of the Princess. They were met by a sailor in uniform.
"You'll find him below," he said to Dick, without being asked any questions, and he motioned to an after companionway. Dick started down. Had he but known it the young millionaire was entering the trap set for him.