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But when, upon my Port is seen A steamer's Starboard light of green, For me there's naught to do, but see That Green to Port keeps clear of me. "Come, now," he growled, "wot's your game? D'ye mean to say you've bin humbuggin' me all this time?" His little eyes glared redly from underneath his shaggy eyebrows. He was ready to sulk again, without hope of reconciliation, so Royson perforce explained.
The two were puzzling over each turn and twist of the Greek adventurer's awkward phrases when Irene, who had gone out with Stump, interrupted them. "Dick," she said, blushing poppy red because she used his familiar name, "you must go and rest at once. I am sure, grandad, you don't want Mr. Royson to break down a second time, do you?
You certainly took a different view of the situation when we determined its main features in London." Royson was careful not to look at the speakers. Between him and them was seated Mrs. Haxton, and he knew that she, too, was an attentive listener. Von Kerber began to explain the reasons which lay behind his change of opinion, but Stump's voice suddenly recalled Dick to his duties.
Then the cold air will freshen her. And be quick, monsieur! Those who follow will not wait on ceremony." Royson substituted a soaked handkerchief for Abdullah's drastic remedy, but he soon had the satisfaction of seeing Irene's lips move. Then, after testing the water to make sure it was drinkable, he gave her a mouthful, and, within a few seconds, she was in partial possession of her senses.
The point of view of both father and son was novel to Royson, and their ethics were vile, but he gave the girl, who was sent away at the same time, half of the six pounds he had in his pocket, and wished he had used his fist instead of his open hand on the junior partner's face.
The Austrian was more sallow than usual, but that might be the result of his unpleasant experiences on the previous day. Irene came to the bridge. Though she knew that none except the captain might converse with the officer on duty, she whispered timidly: "They won't fire at us, Mr. Royson, will they?" He smiled reassuringly. The tremor in her voice was delightful.
Fenshawe and I were just talking about you." Royson would have known her voice anywhere. It had the rare distinction of music and perfect diction. Amidst the shrill vulgarity which counterfeited wit in the average upper class gathering of the period such a voice must have sounded like the song of a robin in a crowded rookery. The unexpected greeting brought a rush of color to Dick's face.
The Baron expressed both surprise and gratification by the monosyllable. Royson was weighing his companion closely now, and he came to the conclusion, that there were qualities in that tall, thin, somewhat effeminate personality which he had not detected during their brief meeting of the morning.
"To prevent a mistake, may I ask your name?" "Certainly. It is Royson, Richard Royson." "And address?" A curious ring of satisfaction in the newcomer's voice carried a warning note with it.
The negro who accompanied her down-stairs was positive that she had gone off of her own accord in the carriage that was standing outside, but Mr. Fenshawe's frantic protestations when the scared manager told him what had happened convinced Royson that the servant's statement was wildly absurd. Moreover, it became clearer each second that Mrs.
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