Mr. Watson raised his eyebrows, and somehow managed to drop the match he was raising to his cigar.
“You astonish me very much, sir,” he remarked. “I always looked upon the fair, rotund woman as the typical German face.”
Mr. Sabin shook his head gently.
“There are many types,” he said “and nationality, you know, does not always go by complexion or size. For instance, you are very like many American gentlemen whom I have had the pleasure of meeting, but at the same time I should not have taken you for an American.”
The captain laughed.
“I can’t agree with you, Mr. Sabin,” he said. “Mr. Watson appears to me to be, if he will pardon my saying so, the very type of the modern American man.”
“I’m much obliged to you, Captain,” Mr. Watson said cheerfully. “I’m a Boston man, that’s sure, and I believe, sir, I’m proud of it. I want to know for what nationality you would have taken me if you had not been informed?”
“I should have looked for you also,” Mr. Sabin said deliberately, “in the streets of Berlin.”