The Scoutmaster shook his head.
"Sorry," he replied. "This is a private boat."
"Then it's no use?"
"Not the slightest, I regret to say."
The stranger stepped back, treading heavily on the toe of a man behind him.
"My mistake, sir; I apologize," he exclaimed, then he broke into a roar of laughter.
"That's great!" he continued. "Great, absolutely! The owner refused admittance. Something to tell my friends at the club. Murgatroyd warned off the course, eh?"
Then, with considerable agility, he gained the Olivette's deck and extended a hand to the astonished Armitage.
"Course you weren't to know," said Mr. Murgatroyd, waving aside the proffered apology. "I don't mind, so what's the trouble? Nothing. Now then, can we be starting? I mean us all to have a jolly good time. Nothing like being merry and bright, and dash the expense. Smart youngsters those, Mr. Armitage. Makes me regret my lost youth."
Still talking vivaciously, Mr. Murgatroyd directed the shipment of a portmanteau, a suit-case, and a big hamper of provisions.