"You're very kind."
"Not at all. Make yourself at 'ome. There's cigarettes on the locker and a nip of the Scotch to keep the chill out. Here's a light. You've been worryin' me some, 'Ighness. Fact is I didn't know just how big a bug you were until to-day when I arsked some questions. You'll forgive me, 'Ighness?"
"Peter Nichols," corrected the Grand Duke.
"No," insisted the Captain, "we'll give you yer title while we can. You know we British have a bit of a taste for r'yalty when we know it's the real thing. I don't take much stock in most of my cargo aft. And beggin' yer 'Ighness's pardon I never took much stock in Russia since she lay down on the job and left the Allies in the lurch——"
"Captain Blashford," said the Grand Duke quietly. "You can't hurt my feelings."
"But I do like you, 'Ighness, and I want to do all that I can to 'elp you when we get to anchor."
"Thanks."
"I take it that you don't want anybody ashore to know who ye are?"
"Exactly. Most of these refugees are going to England. I have reasons for not wishing to go with them."
"Where then do you propose to go?"