And splash it went into the water, the crew tumbled in, and two men
slowly helped another down the stairs, while the crew stood at
attention. Some baggage was lowered, then the oars dipped together and a
little spurt of foam appeared under the bow.

"Why, it's like a moving-picture machine!" cried Susie, with a little
gasp of enjoyment. "Or a comic opera!" she added, wrestling with her
glasses to get them focussed on the moving boat. "The hero's sitting in
the stern," she announced. "He's all wrapped up and there's another man
holding him. I can't see anything of him but his eyes, for he's got a
handkerchief or something over the lower part of his face. He must be
awfully ill, poor fellow!"

"Probably got the grip," observed her father, practically. "Wants to
keep out the damp air. I think he'd be better off at home in bed."

"Oh, but then," protested Nell--

"Then we shouldn't have this show," said her father, and laughed grimly
at the thought that neither would fortune have smiled so promptly on the
Grand Hôtel Royal.

The oars flashed suddenly upright; two men sprang from the bow, with a
fine disregard of a wetting, and pulled the boat far in. Then the
bemuffled figure was lifted tenderly and carried to the waiting chair,
where Monsieur Pelletan was bowing with his head almost touching the
carpet. The invalid was started toward the hotel without delay, three
men accompanying him, under the leadership of Pelletan; the baggage was
heaped on the beach and taken in charge by the hotel porters. A moment