It fell out just as the doctor had said, for about half-an-hour later the waiter came into the room to say that Captain Bradleigh would be glad to see Sir John Meadows; and Jack looked up curiously as a ruddy, tan-faced, rather fierce-looking man, with very crisp hair, beard sprinkled with grey, and keen, piercing grey eyes, shaded by rather shaggy brows, entered, glanced quickly round as he took off his gold-braided yachting cap, and at once addressed Sir John, as if quite sure that he was the principal.
“Sir John Meadows?” he said courteously, but with a ring of authority in his words.
“Yes; will you sit down. This is my friend, Doctor Instow; my son.”
The captain shook hands with the two elders, giving them a firm, manly grip, short and sharp, as if he meant business; but his pressure of Jack’s thin, white hand was gentle, and he retained it in his strong, firm palm as he said—
“Ah! father—doctor—you have been ill, young gentleman?”
“I? No,” said Jack, with a look of resentment.
“Unwell, not bad,” said the captain kindly. “Only want a sea-trip to do you good;” and he smiled pleasantly, looking like an Englishman full of firmness and decision, such a one as people would like to trust in a case of emergency.
“I got your message, gentlemen,” he said, as he took a chair, “and I came on at once.”
“Thank you,” said Sir John.
“The agent wrote me a long letter, saying you might come down; but I did not think much of it, for I have had so many from him that have come to nothing.”