"Amazing," said the captain. He blew a ring of smoke toward the paneled ceiling. "The more shame to the men of Boston. My time is hardly my own, but I shall hope to look in on her." He rose. "This was a bit of luck—meeting you again, old chap. I'm due aboard the boat very shortly—you understand, of course." He bowed to them both, and departed.
"Fine fellow," Roger said, staring after him. "Frank and British, but a splendid chap."
"I wasn't especially pleased," John Quincy admitted, "by the way he spoke of Cousin Dan."
Roger laughed. "Better get used to it," he advised. "Dan is not passionately beloved. He's climbed high, you know, and he's trampled down a few on his way up. By the way, he wants you to do an errand for him here in San Francisco."
"Me!" cried John Quincy. "An errand?"
"Yes. You ought to feel flattered. Dan doesn't trust everybody. However, it's something that must wait until dark."
"Until dark," repeated the puzzled young man from Boston.
"Precisely. In the meantime I propose to show you about town."
"But—you're busy. I couldn't think of taking you away—"
Roger laid his hand on John Quincy's shoulder. "My boy, no westerner is ever too busy to show a man from the East about his city. I've been looking forward to this chance for weeks. And since you insist on sailing to-morrow at ten, we must make the most of our time."