At the newsstand Jack bought a copy of a yachting magazine and from the advertising pages picked out the address of a leading firm of yacht brokers.
A few minutes later he was seated opposite the head of that firm, a trig little man with apple cheeks and shiny pink pate--he need not be named. Every yachtsman knows him.
"I represent a well-known millionaire," said Jack, "before I give you his name, or open my business with you, I must ask you to pledge yourself to regard it as confidential."
"Well," said Jack, "my name is Robinson, and my employer is Mr. John Farrow Norman."
As always, this announcement produced a well-nigh magical effect.
"Mr. Norman is sick," Jack went on, "the fact is he's been going the pace, rather, since he came into his money, and now he's got to pull up with a round turn."
The broker expressed a discreet sympathy.
"He has instructed me to charter a steam yacht for a Southern cruise, a roomy, comfortable boat. The main consideration is to get something that's all ready to go."
"It is fortunate that you came to me, Mr. Robinson," said the little broker solemnly. "As it happens I have the very thing you want. I refer to the _Columbian_, Colonel Oliver Stackpoole's yacht. Perhaps you know her?"
"One of the finest yachts afloat, sir! Three hundred feet long, and a veritable floating palace! Only yesterday Colonel Stackpoole and a party of friends returned on her from a hunting trip to Jekyl Island. I have just received the Colonel's note authorizing me to charter her for the Florida season. She has a full complement of men, a complete inventory of stores, she is coaling this minute, and actually has steam up!"
"That sounds promising," said Jack. "How about terms?"
He agreed without batting an eye to the figure named, and the little broker was sorry he had not asked double.
"Let's go and look at her," said Jack. "If everything is O.K. you shall have a check this afternoon, and we'll sail to-night."
The yacht-broker wished that Heaven might send him such clients oftener.
The _Columbian_ was lying at a coal dock in Hoboken. It was a matter of half an hour to reach her in the automobile. Jack fell in love with her at sight, and registered a silent vow, that some day when his work was done he would own her outright--or one like her.