As the
two watermen gingerly manoeuvred the boat on the ebbing tide,
Hazell explained to the millionaire that the 'Squirm' was one of the
most notorious craft on the river. It appeared that when anyone had
a nefarious or underhand scheme afoot which necessitated river
work Everett's launch was always available for a suitable monetary
consideration. The 'Squirm' had got itself into a thousand scrapes,
and out of those scrapes again with safety, if not precisely with
honour. The river police kept a watchful eye on it, and the chief
marvel about the whole thing was that old Everett, the owner, had
never yet been seriously compromised in any illegal escapade. Not
once had the officer of the law been able to prove anything definite
against the proprietor of the 'Squirm', though several of its
quondam hirers were at that very moment in various of Her
Majesty's prisons throughout the country. Latterly, however, the
launch, with its damaged propeller, which Everett consistently
refused to have repaired, had acquired an evil reputation, even
among evil-doers, and this fraternity had gradually come to
abandon it for less easily recognizable craft.
'Your friend, Mr Tom Jackson,' said Hazell to Racksole,
'committed an error of discretion when he hired the "Squirm". A
scoundrel of his experience and calibre ought certainly to have
known better than that. You cannot fail to get a clue now.
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