"Are you a yachtsman?"
"A bit of an amateur, yes; have a cat-boat I play with some. Belong to the Columbia Club."
"Off Grant Park; this boat quarters in the Jackson lagoon. We left there last night. You knew Coolidge?"
"No, never met him; recognized the boat though. Has it been sold?"
"Not yet. It wasn't his anyway; belonged to the estate. I'm one of the trustees; that's how I've got the use of it--see? Ever looked it over?"
West shook his head.
"No, but I wouldn't mind; she's a dandy."
"She sure is; better inside than out to my notion. Come aboard; we've got time enough. Not thinking of buying a yacht, are you?"
"Well, I might, if the price is not too steep. I've got the fever all right; what I lack maybe, is money. It costs a lot to run a yacht."
"Oh, I don't know. We operate this with three men as a crew. That's not so bad. Come along with us, Mark; we'll take a look at the cabin first, and then go forward."
The three men stepped over the low rail, and moved aft across the deck, the leader talking fluently, and pointing out various things of interest. His only object apparently was to arouse in West a desire to purchase. The other man never spoke, and the latter gave no thought to his presence. He had been rarely fortunate so far, and was looking for an opportunity to question his guide on the purpose of their voyage. He would wait until later; until the examination had been completed, perhaps, when they believed him a possible purchaser. Joe opened the cabin door, and West stepped inside, the interior darkened by drawn curtains. The dusk was confusing, and he stood still after the first step, hearing the latch click behind him.