Captain Webber shook his head and tossed down his drink.
Mr. Greypoole leaned back in his chair and crossed a leg. "Ah," he continued, "you have no idea how good this is. Once in a while it does get lonely for me here—no man is an island, or how does it go? Why, I can remember when Mr. Waldmeyer first told me of this idea. 'A grave responsibility,' he said, 'a grave responsibility.' Mr. Waldmeyer has a keen sense of humor, needless to say."
Captain Webber looked out the window. A small child on roller skates stood still on the sidewalk. Mr. Greypoole laughed.
"Finished your wine? Good. Explanations are in order, though first perhaps you'd care to join me in a brief turn about the premises?"
"Fine. Friden, you stay here and wait for the men." Captain Webber winked a number of times and frowned briefly, then he and Mr. Greypoole walked out onto the porch and down the steps.
Mr. Friden drummed his fingers upon the arm of a chair, surveyed his empty glass and hiccoughed softly.
"I do wish you'd landed your ship elsewhere, Captain. Mr. Bellefont was quite particular and, as you can see, his park is hopelessly disfigured."
"We were given no choice, I'm afraid. The fuel was running out."
"Indeed? Well then, that explains everything. A beautiful day, don't you find, sir? Fortunately, with the exception of Professor Carling, all the Guests preferred good weather. Plenty of sunshine, they said, or crisp evening. It helps."