At this moment Van Zandt steps from his cab, and, raising his hat, remarks:
“I trust that the carelessness of my driver has not caused you serious annoyance.”
“He has prevented our catching the last steamer that will sail for Cuba in probably some months,” replies Mr. Felton, tartly.
“You blockhead!” cries Van Zandt sternly, turning to Riley, who averts his face.
“My dear sir, it is needless for me to assure you of my profound regret. It will not help matters. The mischief is done—and yet I think I can repair it.”
“Repair it?” repeats Mr. Felton. “In what possible way, sir?”
“Very easily, if you desire. You were going to Havana, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My yacht sails for Santiago this afternoon at 1 o’clock. I shall be happy to land you at that port, and you may thence proceed by rail to Havana.”
Mr. Felton and Louise look at each other in surprise. “Really, sir,” says the former, “you are very good, but I do not see how we can put you to such trouble.”