I said that it was quite probable.
"But as the yacht's chartered for a year," pursued Holgate evenly, "the odds are that there's to be cruising off and on, may be up the west coast of America, may be the South Seas, or may be Japan. There's a goodly cruise before us, doctor."
"Well, it will be tolerable for us," I answered.
"Just so," he replied, "only tolerable—not eighteen carat, which seems a pity."
"Shall we strike for higher wages?" I asked drily.
"I've been thinking over what you said, doctor," said the third officer, taking no heed of this, "and it's gone home pretty deep. Prince Frederic has cut himself adrift from his past—there's no getting behind that. The Emperor has thrown him up, and there's no one outside a penny-a-liner cares two pinches for him or what becomes of him. He's done with. The Chancelleries of Europe won't waste their time on him. He's negligible."
"Well?" said I, for I was not in the mood for a political discussion.
"Well, suppose he never turned up?" said Holgate, and leaned back and stared at me.
"I don't understand," said I. "I don't suppose he will turn up. As you say, he's done for."
"I mean that the ship might founder," said Holgate, still holding me with his eye.