The yacht was borne very slowly on, and it became
possible at last to distinguish the figure of the waiter more clearly.
"He looks to me," said Meldon a few minutes later, "very like that
fellow Callaghan, the Ballymoy House gardener."
There was another pause. A puff of wind, the last vital rally of the
expiring breeze, carried the _Spindrift_ forward till the punt at her
moorings lay almost under her bow.
"It is Callaghan," said Meldon, "and there's only one thing which can
possibly bring him here at this hour. Something of real importance
must have happened between Simpkins and Miss King. I wonder what it
is."
"Catch the punt, J. J., and haul her aft till you get a hold of the
buoy. If we drift past we'll never get back again. There's barely
steerage way on the boat this minute."
Meldon stepped forward. There was a noise of straining ropes and
splashing. Then he stood upright and pulled the buoy on board.
"Unless something exceptionally interesting has occurred," said Meldon,
"I can't understand Callaghan waiting for us like this. Perhaps
they've got engaged."
"Nonsense," said the Major; "how could they in two days? Let go the
peak halyards, and take a pull on the topping lift.
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