"Come on," he cried, and leaped on the shoulders of the aspirant to the title. Paddock and Wall followed. Despite his discouraged appearance, George put up a lively fight. For a time the four men struggled back and forth across the deck, now in moonlight, now in shadow. Once George slipped and fell, his three captors on top of him, and at that moment Mr. Minot felt a terrific tugging at his coat. But the odds were three to one against George Harrowby, and finally he was dragged and pushed into the launch. Again Paddock started the engine, and that odd boat load drew away from the _Lileth_. They had gone about ten feet when poor old George slipped out from under Minot and leaped to his feet. "Hi--Trimmer--it's me--it's George--" he thundered in a startlingly loud tone. Minot put his hand over George's lips, and they locked in conflict. The small launch danced wildly on the waters. And fortunately for Minot's plans the moon still hid behind the clouds. With a stretch of Tarragona's rank vegetation between them and the _Lileth_, Mr. Paddock stopped the engine and they stood still on the dark waters. Paddock lighted a cigarette, utilizing the same match to consult his watch. "Ten o'clock," he said. "Can't say this is the jolliest little party I was ever on." "Never mind," replied Minot cheerfully. "It won't take Trimmer fifteen minutes to find that his proposition isn't on board. In twenty minutes we'll slip back and look for the signal." The "proposition" in question sat up and straightened his collar. "The pater and I split," he said, "over the matter of my going to Oxford. The old boy knew best. I wish now I'd gone. Then I might have words to tell you chaps what I think of this damnable outrage." Minot and Paddock sat in silence. "I've been in America twenty odd years," the proposition went on. "Seen all sorts of injustice and wrong--but I've lived to experience the climax myself." Still silence from his captors, while the black waters swished about the launch. "I take it you chaps believe me to be an impostor, just as Allan does. Well, I'm not. And I'm going to give you my little talk on the old days at Rakedale Hall. When I've finished--" "No, you're not," said Minot. "I've heard all that once." "And you weren't convinced? Why, everybody in San Marco is convinced. The mayor, the chief of police, the--" "My dear George," said Minot with feeling. "It doesn't make the slightest difference who you are. You and Trimmer stay separated until after next Tuesday." "Yes. And rank injustice it is, too. We'll have the law on you for this. We'll send you all to prison." "Pleasant thought," commented Paddock. "Mrs. Bruce would have to develop lockjaw at the height of the social season. Oh, the devil--I'd better be thinking about that luncheon." All thought. All sat there silent. The black waters became a little rougher. On their surface small flecks of white began to appear. Minot looked up at the dark sky.