in Captain Bontnor touched him; some simple British quality which he
was pleased to meet with, thus, in a foreign land.

"Look here," he said, "I'll go out with you afterwards and find out
all about the boat, take your ticket, and fix the whole thing up."

"I'm sure you're very kind," began the old sailor hesitatingly. He
fumbled at his necktie for a moment with unsteady, weather-beaten
hands. "But I shouldn't like to trespass on your time. I take it
you're here for pleasure?"

Lord Seahampton smiled.

"Yes, I'm here for pleasure; that's what I'm in the world for."

Still Captain Bontnor hesitated.

"You might meet some of your friends," he began tentatively, "in the
streets, you know." He paused and looked down at his own hands; he
turned one palm up, showing the faint tattoo on the wrist. "I'm
only a rough seafaring man," he went on. "They might think it
strange--might wonder whom you had picked up."

The spotless collar seemed to be very uncomfortable.

"I've always made a practice," mumbled Lord Seahampton, rather
incoherently, "of letting my friends think what they damned well
please. May I ask your name?"

"Bontnor's my name. Captain Bontnor, at your service."