“I don’t like it a little bit,” broke in Victor, beginning to pace the wharf. “Uncle Ralph intended to leave at ten. It’s nine-fifteen now.”
“Very likely he has taken Bob and Charlie on a short cruise,” suggested Dave, consolingly.
“What for, I’d like to know?”
“So should I.”
“Looks mighty queer to me.” A heavy scowl rested on Victor’s face. “Let’s get off this old pile of boards, and——”
“Go back to the hotel, I suppose?”
“You suppose wrong, as usual. In the mood I’m in I might give the by-law committee what I almost handed to Joe Rodgers. Back to that fine combination of Spudger and Whiffin.”
“But there’s three-quarters of an hour to spare, and the yacht is almost sure to be back within that time,” objected Dave, glancing at his watch.
“I won’t wait.”
Dave’s resourcefulness was called into play. By means of a vigorous argument he managed to prolong their stay for a few moments, at the expiration of which he found himself alone. Laughing softly, he sat down on a box on the edge of the wharf.