"Sir," he said, "since we have been and are your unwilling guests, will you be so good as to arrange for us at once to relieve you of our presence?"
"Well, I'm not so sure about that," Richard remarked, meditatively. "I think I'd contribute a good deal to the comfort and happiness of this generation if I took you all out to sea and dropped you overboard, one by one."
"As I presume you have no such intention," Mr. Grex persisted, "I repeat that we should be glad to be allowed to land."
Richard abandoned his indolent posture and stood facing them.
"You came on board, gentlemen, without my invitation," he reminded them. "You will leave my ship when I choose—and that," he added, "is not just at present."
"Do you mean that we are to consider ourselves your prisoners?" Draconmeyer asked, with an acid smile.
"Certainly not—my guests," Richard replied, with a bow. "I can assure you that it will only be a matter of a few hours."
Monsieur Douaille hammered the table with his fist.
"Young man," he exclaimed, "I leave with you! I insist upon it that I am permitted to leave. I am not a party to this conference. I am merely a guest, a listener, here wholly in my private capacity. I will not be associated with whatever political scandal may arise from this affair. I demand permission to leave at once."
"Seems to me there's something in what you say," Richard admitted. "Very well, you can come along. I dare say Hunterleys will be glad to have a chat with you. As for the rest of you," he concluded, as Monsieur Douaille rose promptly to his feet, "I have a little business to arrange on land which I think I could manage better whilst you are at sea. I shall therefore, gentlemen, wish you good evening. Pray consider my yacht entirely at your disposal. My stewards will be only too happy to execute any orders—supper, breakfast, or dinner. You have merely to say the word."