I put on an ulster, lit a cigar, and went up on deck. I found my chair on the sheltered side of the ship, and wrapping myself in a rug, prepared to spend a comfortable half-hour. But I had scarcely settled down before a little group of people came along the deck and halted close to me. A smooth-faced manservant, laden with a pile of magnificent rugs, struck a match and began to examine the labels on the chairs. Its flickering light was apparently sufficient for Adèle to recognize my features.
"So you are going to join the fresh-air brigade, Mr. Courage," she remarked. "I think you are very wise. We found the music-room insufferable."
"I can assure you that the smoke-room is worse, Miss Van Hoyt," I answered, struggling to my feet. "Can I find your chair for you?"
"Thanks, the deck steward is bringing it," she answered. "Let me introduce you to my friends—Mrs. Van Reinberg—my stepmother, Miss Van Reinberg, Miss Sara Van Reinberg, Mr. de Valentin—Mr. Hardross Courage."
I bowed collectively. Mr. de Valentin greeted me stiffly, Mrs. Van Reinberg and the Misses Van Reinberg, with a cordiality which somewhat surprised me.
"I met your cousin, Sir Gilbert, in London, I think, Mr. Courage," she remarked. "He was kind enough to give us tea on the terrace at the House of Commons."
I bowed.
"Gilbert is rather fond of entertaining his friends there," I remarked.
"It is the one form of frivolity which seems to appeal to him."
"He was very kind," she continued. "He introduced a number of interesting people to us. The Duke of Westlingham is a relation of yours, is he not?"
"My second cousin," I remarked.