Saltash was well-known as a private yachtsman, and the first account
which reported him amongst the drowned was received with widespread
regret throughout that circle in which he was a familiar figure. Then at
a later hour came its contradiction, and his friends smiled and remarked
that he had the facility of an eel for getting out of tight corners, and
that they would never believe him dead till they had been to his funeral.

Long before the publication of the second report, Saltash was seated in
the captain's cabin on board the _Corfe Castle_, with a strong brandy and
soda before him, giving a brief and vigorous account of himself and his
company. Yes, he was Charles Burchester, Viscount Saltash, owner of the
private yacht, _The Night Moth_. He was returning from Valrosa alone with
his captain and his crew. They had been cruising in the Atlantic with the
idea of going south, but he had recently changed his mind and decided
to go home. He had not expected such damnable luck as to be run down in
home waters, but he supposed that Fate was against him. He only asked now
to be put ashore as soon as possible, being for the moment heartily sick
of sea-travel. This with his most rueful grimace which Captain Beaumont
of the _Corfe Castle_ received with gravely official sympathy.

"Well, I hope you don't blame us for your bad luck," he said. "We might
have been sunk ourselves."

"I never blame anyone but the devil for that," said Saltash generously.
"And as you managed to pick us all up I am glad on the whole that you
weren't."

And then he turned sharply at a knock on the door behind him to see a
lean, lank man enter who peered at him curiously through screwed-up eyes
as though he had never seen anything like him before.