doesn't like it. Take this bag, my man, it's light. I'll carry the
other."

With no words, and no apparent effort, the old man picked up both
bags and shuffled off. The professor followed. At the end of the
wharf there were steps and beneath the steps a small floating
platform to which was secured what the professor afterwards
described as "a marine vehicle, classification unknown." Someone,
girl or woman, hidden in a loose, green coat, was already seated
there. A pair of dark eyes looked up impatiently.

"I am afraid you were not expecting me," said the professor. "I am
Hamilton Spence. Your father--"

"You're getting your feet wet," said the person in the coat. "Please
jump in."

The professor jumped. He hadn't jumped since the sciatica and he
didn't do it gracefully. But it landed him in the boat. The Chinaman
was already in his place. A rattle and a roar arose, the air turned
suddenly to gasoline and they were off.

"Has it a name?" asked the professor as soon as he could make
himself heard.

"What?"

The professor was not feeling amiable. "It might be easier to refer
to it in conversation if one knew its name," he remarked, "'Launch'
seems a trifle misleading."