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Sir Philip looked somewhat disgusted.
"What an old brute he must be!" he said. "Somebody ought to kick him--a
holy kick, of course, and therefore more intense and forcible than other
kicks."
"You begin, Phil," laughed Lorimer, "and we'll all follow suit. He'll be
like that Indian in 'Vathek' who rolled himself into a ball; no one
could resist kicking as long as the ball bounded before them,--we,
similarly, shall not be able to resist, if Dyceworthy's fat person is
once left at our mercy."
"That was a grand bit he told us, Errington," resumed Macfarlane. "Ye
should ha' heard him talk aboot his love-affair! . . . the saft jelly of
a man that he is, to be making up to ony woman."
At that moment they ran alongside of the _Eulalie_ and threw up their
oars.
"Stop a bit," said Errington. "Tell us the rest on board."
The ladder was lowered; they mounted it, and their boat was hauled up to
its place.
"Go on!" said Lorimer, throwing himself lazily into a deck arm-chair and
lighting a cigar, while the others leaned against the yacht rails and
followed his example.


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