wfully rude of me to keep you
standing here like this. Come along."

They accordingly made their way down the companion-ladder to the saloon
below. Everything had been prepared for their reception, and the
stewards were already laying dinner as they entered. Having finished
that important meal, and drunk the toast of a pleasant voyage, they
ascended to the deck once more, when Foote and Maas made their way to
the smoking-room, while Browne went up to the bridge to have a talk
with the captain. When he descended again, he announced to his guests
that the yacht would be got under way as soon as it was light in the
morning, and that the first coaling-place would be Gibraltar.

"Bravo!" said Jimmy, rapping the table with his pipe. "Thank goodness,
by midday we shall be well out in the Channel."

At the same moment Maas's cigar slipped from between his fingers and
dropped on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, but at first could
not find it. By the time he had done so the conversation had changed,
and Browne had drawn his watch from his pocket. A cry of astonishment
escaped him: "Have you any idea what the time is?"

They confessed that they had not.

"Well, it's nearly twelve o'clock," he said. "If you won't either of
you take anything else, I think the best thing we can do is to get to
bed as soon as possible."

So tired was Browne that night that he slept without waking until well
on in the following morning. Indeed, it was past nine o'clock when
Davis, his man-servant, entered and woke him; he sat up, and rubbed his
eyes, as if he could very well have gone on sleeping for another hour
or two.

"By Jove! we're under way," he said, as if he were surprised to find
the yacht moving. "Where are we, Davis?"

"Off Swanage, sir," the man replied. "Captain Mason couldn't get away
quite as early as he hoped to do; but he's making up for lost time now,
sir."

"What sort of a day is it?" Browne inquired.

"Beautiful, sir; it couldn't be no better if you'd ordered it special,"
said Davis, who was a bit of a wag in his way, and was privileged as
such. "There's just a nice bit of swell running, but no more. Not
enough to shake the curls of a schoolmistress, in a manner of speaking."

This Browne discovered to be the case, when he ascended to the deck.
The yacht was bathed in sunshine, and she sat as softly as a duck upon
a large green swell, that was as easy as the motion of a rocking-horse.
Far away to s