CHAPTER XXIII. “CUTTER AHOY!”
In a back room of a disreputable drinking resort on a narrow street leading from the water front were seated two youths clad in the uniform worn by United States naval cadets.
On the table between them were a bottle and two glasses. Both youths were smoking cigarettes, and both appeared ill at ease.
“I can’t stand this much longer, Chris,” said one, nervously flipping the ash from his cigarette. “If that little beggar don’t turn up pretty soon——”
“You’ll go and look for him,” interrupted the other, with a sneer.
“Don’t be a fool. How could I find him in this confounded city?”
He snapped open his watch and added, abruptly:
“Almost seven. Confound it! what can be keeping him?”