“Wonder whether they’ll know me again?” thought the mate; but the next moment he ceased to wonder, for he received a friendly nod from both as he passed them and went on to the hotel to enquire whether anything was known about the American gentleman there.
“Mr Franklyn Briscoe?” was the answer. “Oh, yes, he’s coming in here to stay now those two gentlemen are gone. He has ordered a dinner for himself and a friend.”
“Oh, here you are then,” came from behind him the next moment. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“So have I for you,” said Lynton, rather surlily.
“Oh, I see. I am sorry. You see, I had to find a place where they would give us some dinner. Here, come into my room. This is the place. It won’t be a New York nor a London dinner, but it’s the best I can do here, and it won’t spoil our chat.”
“Of course not,” replied Lynton, “and I came for that more than for the eating and drinking.”
“That’s right,” said the American bluffly. “There, come on: this is my room now those Englishmen are gone.”
The mate followed his host, and after a certain amount of patient waiting the dinner was brought in, and he found the American friendly in the extreme, so that the time passed quickly, and the hour of departure was close at hand with the guest wishing that he had asked the captain to make the hour eleven instead of ten for the boat to be sent ashore from the brig, which was once more swinging from the buoy in mid-stream.