“Yes, sir. I keep the public boat-house down below here a piece.” Then he turned and pointed out into the stream. “I gave an eye to the yacht _Wizard_ as you told me. That’s her out there with all the lights going. Some people boarded her about a half hour ago; I had a night glass on her, and I think they are trying to get up steam in a hurry.” “Have you the glass with you?” “Yes, sir. Here it is.” The east wind had driven the murk in masses above the city; and along the waters of the river a sort of thickening was noticeable in the darkness. But Kenyon’s keen eyes and the night glass managed to gather the salient features of the proceedings aboard the _Wizard_. Steam was up and the anchor was being weighed. “Can you get us out to her before she starts?” asked Kenyon. The boatman looked at the yacht through the glass. “It’s too late,” said he, positively. “She’ll be off before I could get you to the launch.” Kenyon handed the man a bill, the size of which made him stare; then with Dallas and Webster he hurried back to the place where they had left the cars. A group of men stood upon a corner not far from them. “Ah, there are my fellows, now,” said Kenyon, in a tone of satisfaction. “Everything is moving on schedule. Take my car with Miss Gilbert, Webster, while I speak to them.” He strode over to the group. There were seven altogether, and Gypsy Brady and Big Slim were among them. “How are you, pal?” saluted the latter. “I’m taking a chance, being out, but I need the money.” “What’s the game?” inquired the Gypsy. “Jump into that car, there, the lot of you,” directed Kenyon, shortly, pointing to the machine that Webster had arrived in. As they scrambled in, hurriedly, he continued to the driver: “Follow the other car; keep close behind, or you might lose us in the darkness.” Then he leaped into the car with Dallas and Webster. “Morris Heights,” he ordered. “And let us see you break a record.” “We’ll be pinched if we try that,” protested the driver. “We must take the risk. It is late, and there are not many people upon the streets, so there is little danger of an accident. Open her up!” “All right,” said the man, as the big car swept around. “The chances are all yours. I’m used to it.” And he followed his instructions to the letter. The machine was a powerful one, as was the one behind; and stray pedestrians were startled to see the two big vehicles flash by and vanish amid a cloud of dust. Now and then a policeman waved a frantic club and shouted; but they never heeded him, burning the streets until they reached their destination. “Now, then, all of you,” cried Kenyon to Gypsy Brady and his followers. The men tumbled out, as Kenyon paid the drivers of the ears. Then they all made their way along the river front, until Kenyon halted them at a covered pier, the small, private door to which stood open. A man with a big ship’s lantern stood there. “Mr. Kenyon’s party?” inquired he. “Yes. Is the _Vixen_ ready?”