carried, having, in deference to Hilliard's warnings, left behind
most of the things he wanted to bring. They found the taxi and
drove out at once across the great stone bridge leading from the
Bastide Station and suburb on the east bank to the main city on
the west. In front of them lay the huge concave sweep of quays
fronting the Garonne, here a river of over a quarter of a mile in
width, with behind the massed buildings of the town, out of which
here and there rose church spires and, farther down-stream, the
three imposing columns of the Place des Quinconces.

"Some river, this," Merriman said, looking up and down the great
sweep of water.

"Rather. I have the Swallow 'longside a private wharf farther
up-stream. Rather tumble-down old shanty, but it's easier than
mooring in the stream and rowing out. We'll go and leave your
things aboard, and then we can come up town again and get some
dinner."

"Right-o," Merriman agreed.

Having crossed the bridge they turned to the left, upstream, and
ran along the quays towards the south. After passing the railway
bridge the taxi swung down towards the water's edge, stopping at
a somewhat decrepit enclosure, over the gate of which was the
legend "Andre Leblanc, Location de Canots." Hilliard jumped out,
paid the taxi man, and, followed by Merriman, entered the
enclosure.

It was a small place, with a wooden quay along the river frontage