The Duke smote his breast furiously, while the detectives smiled sympathetically into Jarvis' serious face.
"Sacristi! Am I Carlos Hernando, Duke of Alva, to be mocked at by two grinning bull-necked scullions?"
"Whatever you say goes, Dook!" amiably replied the first detective.
A ship's officer appeared on the promenade deck and called through the open door at them.
"Hurry up, if you're going ashore with the pilot, officers."
The two men bowed with their best imitation of gallantry, to the Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon. Nita, standing in the vestibule, sent a melting glance at the faithful Jim, who stumbled over the treacherous cabin threshold.
The superior of the two shook hands pompously with Jarvis, whose left hand was still in his pocket.
"Be kind to the little rascal, Doc. He might not get such good treatment from them Scotland Yard bulls, on the other side. They don't understand human nature like us fellers—they ain't got no education over there. Good-by, Doc! Don't let your foot slip!"
He turned toward the Duke, as he passed through the door.
"You're all right, Dook, old boy, if you do have fits! Ghost Breaker—ha, ha!"