But at that he stopped dead; for the brown beard of the college professor suddenly loosened and fell upon the deck. The professor, not at all discomposed by the extraordinary accident, kicked it carelessly to one side, and pitching his large hat and goggles after it, faced Varney with a jovial smile. "You don't happen to have a thimble-full of redeye about, do you, Mr. Varney?" he asked chattily. "I'm Hammerton, of the _Gazette_ and the _Daily_, you know, and that river down there is _wet_." CHAPTER XII A YELLOW JOURNALIST SECURES A SCOOP BUT FAILS TO GET AWAY WITH IT Garbed in a suit of Varney's clothes, warmed beneath his belt by a libation from the _Cypriani's_ choicest stock, eased as to his person by a pillow beneath his head and a comfortable rest for his feet, Charlie Hammerton threw back his head and laughed. "I'm not crazy about those grand-stand plays as a rule," he said. "Because in the first place they're yellow, and in the second place they're a darned lot of bother. But I just _had_ to see you--I guess you know why--and I couldn't think of anything else that struck me as really sure. How'd I do it? Fair imitashe, hey? And I only told one lie, which is pretty good for a proposition of this sort. I _can_ swim, Mr. Varney. Like a blooming duck." Varney laughed. "You're half an hour too late in telling me that, you know! But tell me how you managed all this: it was so clever! And do try one of these cigars." They sat at ease on the awninged after-deck, a wicker table between them convivial with decanters and their recognized appurtenances, like two old friends met for a happy reunion. The _Gazette's_ star reporter was as different from one's conception of a dangerous adversary as it is possible for a man to be. He seemed only a pleasant-faced, friendly boy of twenty-three or four, with an honest eye and a singularly infectious laugh. "Don't mind if I do--thanks!" said Hammerton, to the proffer of cigars. "Well, it wasn't so very hard. After you steamed off, and left me gazing nervously out to sea like a deserted fisher's wife, I--" "No, you don't!" laughed Varney. "Begin way back at the beginning. I'm as ignorant as a baby about all this, you know." Hammerton rather liked the idea of lolling on a luxurious yacht and explaining to the outwitted owner just how he had done it.