'Venice, you say? You're sure you're right, I suppose? Yes. Yes. I was only asking. No thank you. If I want a ticket I'll look in myself. Much obliged. Good-bye.'
He hung the receiver in its place again, and turned to his Captain with a different expression, in which admiration and satisfaction were quite apparent.
'Well,' he said, 'you're right. It's Venice. I must say that, for an Englishman, you're quite smart.'
The Captain smiled quietly, but did not think it worth while to explain that the last owner with whom he had sailed had been Wagner-mad and had gone to Bayreuth regularly. Moreover, he had judged his man already.
'Am I to proceed to Venice at once, sir?' he asked.
'As quick as you can, Captain.'
The Englishman looked at his watch deliberately, and made a short mental calculation before he said anything. It was eleven in the morning.
'I can get to sea by five o'clock this afternoon, sir. Will that do?' [{102}]
Mr. Van Torp was careful not to betray the least surprise.
'Yes,' he said, as if he were not more than fairly satisfied, 'that'll do nicely.'