“All right,” said the man, as the big car swept around. “The chances are all yours. I’m used to it.”
And he followed his instructions to the letter. The machine was a powerful one, as was the one behind; and stray pedestrians were startled to see the two big vehicles flash by and vanish amid a cloud of dust. Now and then a policeman waved a frantic club and shouted; but they never heeded him, burning the streets until they reached their destination.
“Now, then, all of you,” cried Kenyon to Gypsy Brady and his followers.
The men tumbled out, as Kenyon paid the drivers of the ears. Then they all made their way along the river front, until Kenyon halted them at a covered pier, the small, private door to which stood open.
A man with a big ship’s lantern stood there.
“Mr. Kenyon’s party?” inquired he.
“Yes. Is the Vixen ready?”
“All but casting off.”
“Then let us get aboard.”
In a few minutes they were upon the tiny after-deck of a long, narrow power-boat of something less than fifteen tons. Brady and his men were gathered forward and upon the top of the low cabin. Kenyon saw the last one aboard; then he handed Dallas down into the cabin.