to Hambleton's question.

"Queer name--_Jene Dark_ they call her."

It was like pulling teeth to get information out of him, but Jim
applied the forceps.

The yacht had been lying out in the river for two weeks or more,
possibly less; belonged to foreign parts; no one thereabouts knew who
its owner was; nor its captain; nor its purpose in the harbor of New
York. At last, quite gratuitously, the man volunteered a personal
opinion. "Slippery boat in a gale--wouldn't trust her."

Hambleton walked smartly back, taking a look both at the yacht and the
motor-car as he went. The yacht's nose pointed toward the Jersey
shore; the car was creeping out of the dock. As he overtook the
machine, he saw that it was in the hands of a mechanic in overalls and
jumper. In answer to Hambleton's question as, to the owner of the car,
the mechanic told him pleasantly to go to the devil, and for once the
sight of a coin failed to produce any perceptible effect. But the
major-general, waiting half a block away, was still in the humor of
giving fatherly advice. He welcomed Jim heartily. "That's a hole I
ain't got no use for. 'Ow'd you make out?"

"Well enough, for all present purposes. Can you undertake to do a job
for me?"

"If it ain't nothing I'd have to arrest you for, I might consider it,"
he chuckled.