and superiority. But it occurred to me while I listened to his
revilings, that after all the good man had come up in the tug. There
perhaps--since he must come to town--he had no option. But evidently he
had had a drink with Falk, either accepted or offered. How was that? So
I checked him by saying loftily that I hoped he would make Falk pay for
every penny of the damage.

"That's it! That's it! Go for him," called out Schomberg from the bar,
flinging his pencil down and rubbing his hands.

We ignored his noise. But Hermann's excitement suddenly went off
the boil as when you remove a saucepan from the fire. I urged on his
consideration that he had done now with Falk and Falk's confounded tug.
He, Hermann, would not, perhaps, turn up again in this part of the world
for years to come, since he was going to sell the Diana at the end
of this very trip ("Go home passenger in a mail boat," he murmured
mechanically). He was therefore safe from Falk's malice. All he had to
do was to race off to his consignees and stop payment of the towage bill
before Falk had the time to get in and lift the money.

Nothing could have been less in the spirit of my advice than the
thoughtful way in which he set about to make his parasol stay propped
against the edge of the table.

While I watched his concentrated efforts with astonishment he threw at
me one or two perplexed, half-shy glances. Then he sat down. "That's all
very well," he said reflectively.

It cannot be doubted that the man had been thrown off his balance by
being hauled out of the harbour against his wish. His stolidity had been