rd
movements on the stone stairs which ran down to the river. The scout
put his head over the side of the boat and listened. Water carries
sound as nothing else does, and he heard them get into their boat very
cautiously, slip oars into rowlocks, and paddle gently away. There was
no dip or splash from the oars. 'Muffled 'em,' said Chippy to himself.

He gave them a couple of minutes to get clear out into the river from
the side channel which washed the slip; then he prepared to follow. He
untied the painter, pushed his boat clear of its companions, slipped
his sweep over the stern, and began to scull down the channel without a
sound, his practised hands working the boat on by the sweep as silently
and smoothly as a fish glides forward by the strokes of its tail.

The little skiff slipped out on to the broad bosom of the river, and
Chippy looked eagerly ahead. He saw his men at once. They were
paddling gently down-stream close inshore. At this point the river ran
due west, ran towards the quarter of the sky now bright with stars.
Against this brightness Chippy saw the dark mass of boat and men. He
glanced over his shoulder. The east remained black, its covering of
cloud unbroken, and Chippy felt the joy of the scout who follows
steadily, and knows that he himself is unseen.

The boat ahead went much faster than Chippy's little tub, but he let
them go, and sculled easily forward; he knew where to find them. As
they approached Elliotts' warehouse, a great cloud drew swiftly over
the west, and the scout completely lost sight of the other boat. But
the darkness was short. Within a few minutes the cloud passed as
swiftly as it had come, and the surface of the river was once more
pallid in the starshine.

Chippy saw the great bulk of the warehouse emerge from the gloom; he
saw the level plain of water, now smooth at this time of dead-slack,
and he expected to see the boat, but he did not. He brought up his
skiff with a sharp turn of the sweep, and rubbed his eyes, and looked,
and looked again. He saw nothing. The boat had vanished. It was not
lying off the warehouse; of that he was quite sure. He was so placed,
fairly close inshore, that his eye swept every inch of water along the
front of the building. No boat was there.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE OLD WATER-GATE

This was very mysterious. Chippy could not make out what had happened.
The boat had not sunk. Had it done so, the men would never have go