Now, how it was that my eyes whirled from this decidedly new interest back to the heavy man in the boat I don’t know; but I am certainly glad now that I did glance that way on that particular second. For, with a furtive look at his little chief, the fellow made a quick step forward and to starboard. It was but a second that his hand groped under a locker; but, when he withdrew it, his face lighted to a grin. He checked it quickly, though, as he slid back to his old position before the flywheel. The car groaned to sharply applied brakes directly alongside the gangway that led steeply down to the float, for the tide was low. Immediately a man popped from the limousine, and handed down a closely veiled woman; then he slipped a coin to the chauffeur, who forthwith made off. Somehow or other, I was getting mighty interested by this time; though, of course, none of it was any of my business. The woman wore a dream of a little, high-heeled boot, which showed prettily enough in her terror of the sharply sloping plank. But the man steadied her firmly to the float, where he nodded curtly to the little, gilded captain. “Well, we made it, Stevens,” I heard him say. Then he called his own bluff at being the gentleman, for he lighted a cigarette, drawing his match across a polished mahogany panel of the wheelhouse. I could see the little skipper fairly writhe. He had my sympathy; for, owner or no owner, right is right. “New rich, and thinks he’s the real thing,” I muttered to myself, little realizing how soon I was to assume another rôle. With but a moment’s delay, the girl reached a seat on a transom of the midship half cabin; and, just before joining her, the man drew out a handsomely jeweled watch. “No time to spare, eh, Stevens?” he inquired, a bit anxiously, I thought. Stevens deftly cast off the moorings and took his position at the wheel. “I’ll get there,” said he, as he jangled the bell for “ahead.” The lumbering engineer leisurely grasped the starting lever and drew her up to compression. The coil buzzed viciously, but no cough told of explosion. His surprise was a fine imitation of the genuine as he cranked once more, but without result. The engine lay dead. Then I saw a sharp look of dismay flash across the features of the man I reckoned to be the owner. “What’s the matter?” he snapped, in a tone far removed from his former easy one. “Don’t know,” grumbled the engineer surlily. “She wuz runnin’ all right comin’ over.” He went on with his futile cranking. Then the girl leaped to her feet with a little cry, the wind whipping aside the veil a moment. Her face decided me. If there was anything I could do to take away that look of anxiety, almost terror, I’d do it. And, furthermore, I was pretty sure I could. I knew I’d be taking a chance; but I didn’t believe it was much of a one; and, besides, I like to take chances.