“Bresh yo’ coat, Suh?”

The professor allowed himself to be brushed and even proffered the usual tip, so powerful is the push of habit.  In the narrow corridor by the door he waited politely while the lady who wouldn’t trust her suitcase to the porter got stuck sideways and had to be pried out.  But when once his foot descended upon the station platform, he was a man again.  The killing inaction was over.

With the quiet speed of one who knows that hurry defeats haste, he set about materializing the plans which he had made upon the train.  And circumstance, repentant of former caprice, seemed willing to serve.  The very first taxi-man he questioned was an intelligent fellow who knew more about Vancouver than its various hotels.  A launch?  Yes, he knew where a launch might be hired, also a man who could run it.  Provided, of course—­

Spence produced an inspiring roll of bills.  The taxi-man grinned.

“Sure, if you’ve got the oof it’s easy enough,” he assured him.  “Wake up the whole town and charter a steamer if you don’t care what they soak you.”  He considered a moment. “’Tisn’t a dope job, is it?”

Spence looked blank.

“What I mean to say is, what kind of man do you want?”

“Any man who will take me where I want to go.”

The taxi-man nodded.  “All right.  That’s easy.”

In less time than even to the professor seemed possible the required boat-man was produced and bargained with.  That is to say he was requested to mention his terms and produce his launch, both of which he did without hesitancy.  And again circumstance was kind.

“If it’s Farr’s Landing you want,” said the boat-man, leading a precarious way down a dark wharf, “I guess you’ve come to the right party.  ’Taint a place many folks know.  But I ran in there once to borrow some gas.  Queer gink that there Chinaman!  Anyone know you’re coming?  Anyone likely to show a light or anything?”

The professor said that his visit was unexpected.  They would have to manage without a light.

The boat-man feared that, in that case, the terms might “run to” a bit more.  But, upon receiving a wink from the taxi-man, did not waste time in stating how far they might run, but devoted himself to the encouragement of a cold engine and the business of getting under way.

Once more Spence was reduced to passive waiting.  But the taste of the salt and the smell of it brought back the picture of Desire as he had seen her first—­strong, self-confident.  He had thought these qualtities ungirlish at the time; now he thanked God for the memory of them.

It had been dark enough when they left the wharf but soon a soft brightness grew.

“Here she comes!” said his pilot with satisfaction.  “Some moon, ain’t she?”

“Hurry!” There was an urge in the professor’s voice which fitted in but poorly with the magic of the night.  The boat-man felt it and wondered.  He tried a little conversation.