“Against what?”
“Ah, you pretend you do not know,” she retorted impatiently.
“I don’t think you quite grasp the position. I am in Lisbon on business which will detain me some little time. Meanwhile, I am fortunate in having met some old friends and made some new ones, and I am delighted to have an opportunity of welcoming them on my yacht. That is how matters stand. And any warning against doing that, however well meant and by whomsoever given, is really as little needed as if you or I were to go to the Stella’s captain and warn him against hidden reefs out there on the open sea.”
“It is against a hidden reef in an apparently open sea that I am warning you.”
“Well, Captain Bolton is a splendid seaman and knows his charts, but a man of very few words, and he would—just smile.”
“You may smile if you will; but do you think I should have forced myself upon you in this way without reason?”
“The man is fortunate indeed upon whom such pleasure is thus thrust.”
“You cover your meaning with a jest—but I am too much in earnest. I wish to be your friend. You must not seek to interfere with Miralda’s marriage.”
“Your pardon, but we are really getting too personal. Let me suggest that we wait to discuss that lady until she is present. Ah, here they are,” I exclaimed, catching sight of them. And then I had a little thrust at Inez. “And you are fortunate, too. Lieutenant de Linto is with them.”
I knew how he must bore her; and she did not succeed in disguising her chagrin. She had admitted that she had come as a sort of watchdog; and the punishment fitted the crime so aptly that I grinned. Nor was that to be her only punishment, as matters turned out. The skipper proved a true weather prophet, and Inez was a desperately bad sailor.