He looked over the side of the boat into the brown water, and asked himself what frightful secrets lay hidden in its depth.

Then he put his hand into his hip-pocket and touched the stock of his Colt revolver--that familiar substance comforted him.
The oarsmen had instructions to drop slowly down to the Pool, as the wide reach below the Tower is called.

These two men had not been previously informed of the precise object of the expedition, but now that they were safely afloat Hazell judged it expedient to give them some notion of it.

'We expect to come across a rather suspicious steam launch,' he said.

'My friend here is very anxious to get a sight of her, and until he has seen her nothing definite can be done.' 'What sort of a craft is she, sir ?' asked the stroke oar, a fat-faced man who seemed absolutely incapable of any serious exertion.
'I don't know,' Racksole replied; 'but as near as I can judge, she's about sixty feet in length, and painted black.