"Yes," said Locke. "It is! Damned rough! I think everybody was sorry for him. And so he's down there at this place of his now on an island in the Florida Keys, eh?"
"Yes," said Captain Francis Newcombe.
The young American selected another cigarette from his case, rolled it slowly between his fingers—and leaned suddenly across the table.
"Look here!" he said. "I've an idea. I'm going cruising somewhere—why not there? The Florida coast hits me down to the ground. How would you like to make the trip with me?"
Captain Francis Newcombe leaned back in his chair, and laughed a little.
"I'm afraid not," he said. "I—"
"Oh, come on, be a sport!" urged Howard Locke enthusiastically. "The more I think of it, the better I like it. I'll have good company on a cruise, and you'll enjoy it. And it's quite all right so far as my showing up there is concerned. It isn't as though I were foisting myself on their hospitality. The little old boat's my home; and, for that matter, I can drop you and sail solemnly away. You'll have the time of your life. What's the objection?"
"Time," said Captain Francis Newcombe. "It would take a long while, wouldn't it?"
"Well," said Howard Locke, "I wouldn't guarantee to get you there as fast as a train would, but what difference does a few days make? It isn't as though it were a business engagement you had to keep."
"No; that's so," acknowledged Captain Francis Newcombe. "And frankly I must admit it appeals to me; but"—he looked at his watch—"I don't know whether I can manage it or not. Anyway, I promise to sleep on it. It's after twelve, and time to turn in. What do you say?"