Later in the evening Hanley and Livingstone were seated alone on
deck. The visit to Las Bocas had not proved amusing, but, much to
Livingstone's relief, his honored guest was now in good-humor. He
took his cigar from his lips, only to sip at a long cool drink. He
was in a mood flatteringly confidential and communicative.

"People have the strangest idea of what I can do for them," he
laughed. It was his pose to pretend he was without authority. "They
believe I've only to wave a wand, and get them anything they want.
I thought I'd be safe from them on board a yacht."

Livingstone, in ignorance of what was coming, squirmed
apprehensively.

"But it seems," the senator went on, " I'm at the mercy of a
conspiracy. The women folk want me to do something for this fellow
Marshall. If they had their way, they'd send him to the Court of
St. James. And old Hardy, too, tackled me about him. So did Miss
Cairns.

And then Marshall himself got me behind the wheel-house, and I
thought he was going to tell me how good he was, too I But he
didn't."

As though the joke were on himself, the senator laughed
appreciatively.

"Told me, instead, that Hardy ought to be a vice-admiral."