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Updated: May 21, 2025
I was strong enough to leave the hospital, but not yet physically able for any prolonged exertion. McWhirter, who was short and stout, had been alternately flirting with the nurse, as she moved in and out preparing my room for the night, and sizing me up through narrowed eyes. "No," he said, evidently following a private line of thought; "you don't belong behind a counter, Leslie.
McWhirter has been looking after, aren't you?" "Yes." I pulled off my cap, and, recollecting myself "Yes, miss." "You are not a sailor?" "I have had some experience and I am willing." "You have been ill, haven't you?" "Yes miss." "Could you polish brass, and things like that?" "I could try. My arms are strong enough. It is only when I walk " But she did not let me finish.
The murders on the schooner-yacht Ella were solved. McWhirter went back to his hospital, the day after our struggle, wearing a strip of plaster over the bridge of his nose and a new air of importance. The Turners went to New York soon after, and I was alone.
But McWhirter's discreet cough reminded me of the street-car level of our finances, and I made the excuse of putting on more suitable clothing. I stood in the street, bareheaded, watching her taxicab as it rattled down the street. McWhirter touched me on the arm. "Wake up!" he said. "We have work to do, my friend." We went upstairs together, cautiously, not to rouse the house.
This apparently conveying no meaning to McWhirter, I supplemented "as a common sailor."
The barecas lay on its side, and its plug had been either knocked or drawn out. McWhirter was for turning to inspect the boat; but I ordered him sternly to watch the deck. He was inclined to laugh at my caution, which he claimed was a quality in me he had not suspected. He lounged against the rail near me, and, in spite of his chaff, kept a keen enough lookout.
Below me, just visible in the river mist of the early morning, was a small boat from which two men were looking up. One was McWhirter! "Hello, old top," he cried. "Or is it you behind that beard?" "It's I, all right, Mac," I said, somewhat huskily.
I was exultant, but with my exultation was mixed a curious anger at McWhirter, that he had advised me not to shave that morning. My preparation took little time. Such of my wardrobe as was worth saving, McWhirter took charge of. I sold the remainder of my books, and in a sailor's outfitting-shop I purchased boots and slickers the sailors' oil skins.
I had brought an electric flash with me, and by its aid we found a rope ladder over the side, with a small boat at its foot. Although the boat indicated the presence of the watchman on board, we made our way to the deck without challenge. Here McWhirter suggested that the situation might be disagreeable, were the man to waken and get at us with a gun.
A dozen miles from Philadelphia the little machine had turned over on a curve, knocking all the law and most of the enthusiasm out of Walters, the legal gentleman, and smashing the brandy-bottle. McWhirter had picked himself up, kicked viciously at the car, and, gathering up his impedimenta, had made the rest of the journey by foot and street-car.
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