The Duke was embarrassed, for he felt the helplessness of his position before this legalized tyrant of the deep.
"I've a mind to think all was not well with this unfortunate young man, from the tone of his letter before he jumped overboard. Not a thing was missing from his wardrobe, but the pajamas he wore—when he ran out on the deck. At least, we find no clothes missing! I'll have something to say to Scotland Yard myself!"
"But the man threatened to shoot me if I spoke to you or any of the officers about him. Now that he is dead I don't fear him."
"Huh!" snorted the captain. "You look about the type of man who wouldn't fear the dead. But what about ghosts, young man! What about ghosts? Did you stop to think of ghosts after people are dead?"
This perfectly innocent question of the seafaring, superstitious mind had a curious effect upon the nobleman.
"Carramba!" he muttered between his teeth, and turned away with a white face. "I wonder what could have been in that letter?"
And the captain glowered at him as he walked nervously down the companionway to his lonely stateroom, to brood in a state of miserable apprehension.
Toward dinner-time the pilot boat was sighted. Several men clambered on board, as well as that official. They sought the captain, and then visited the Princess. Carlos took good care to be in her suite when they came.
Rusty, weeping as though his heart were broken, detailed the sad conversation which he had held the preceding night with his unfortunate employer.
"Poh Marse Warren! Ah'll nebber see 'im again—until de time for de ghost!"