I looked to Davies; it was his affair. Fair and square came his answer, in blunt dog-German.
“Yes, of course, we shall. I should like to see your father again.”
Up to this moment I had been doubtful of his final decision; for ever since our explanation at Bensersiel I had had the feeling that I was holding his nose to a very cruel grindstone. This straight word, clear and direct, beyond anything I had hoped for, brought me to my senses and showed me that his mind had been working far in advance of mine; and more, shaping a double purpose that I had never dreamt of.
“My father?” said Fräulein Dollmann; “yes, I am sure he will be very glad to see you.
There was no conviction in her tone, and her eyes were distant and troubled.
“He’s not at home now, is he?” I asked.
“How did you know?” (a little maidenly confusion). “Oh, Commander von Brüning.”
I might have added that it had been clear as daylight all along that this visit was in the nature of an escapade of which her father might not approve. I tried to say “I won’t tell,” without words, and may have succeeded.
“I told Mr Davies when we first met,” she went on. “I expect him back very soon—to-morrow in fact; he wrote from Amsterdam. He left me at Hamburg and has been away since. Of course, he will not know your yacht is back again. I think he expected Mr Davies would stay in the Baltic, as the season was so late. But—but I am sure he will be glad to see you.”
“Is the Medusa in harbour?” said Davies.