McGlory went up into the air and came down with an astounded look at Matt.
"Say something about that!" he gasped. "Sufferin' Hottentots, Matt, did you hear him? He jumped overboard to get away from his cousin, Joe McGlory! Don't tell me, George!" he growled to Lorry. "You're not such a fool as that comes to. We're out of the same family, mind, and I'd hate to think it."
"You—you don't know everything," faltered Lorry.
"Keno, I don't; but I'm goin' to know everything, George Lorry, before we part company."
All this, of course, was more or less Greek to Motor Matt. It was clear enough that George Lorry had come of good stock, and equally clear that he had been pampered and spoiled. As for the rest of it, Matt was completely in the dark.
Just at that moment the cab arrived. As it drew up, Ping Pong threw open the door and jumped out.
"My gottee, Missul Matt!" he chirruped. "My workee fo' you, huh?"
"For a while, yes, Ping," Matt answered, unable just then to think of any other satisfactory method for dealing with the Chinaman. "Stay here and watch the boat till I come back. Savvy?"
"Can do," crowed Ping Pong, "you bettee. My workee fo' Motol Matt. Hoop-a-la!"
The Chinese boy seemed as delighted as he had been over in Tiburon, when ticket number 73 won the boat. He had insisted on working for Matt, and the pleasant feeling that comes with a job brought a grin to his face and satisfaction to his soul.