“It is very good of you to come,” he went on in a low voice. “I took the privilege of the elder generation, you see! Captain, pray take that chair.”
He did the honours with a British ease of manner, strangely touched by a Spanish dignity.
“When I heard of your great bereavement,” he said, turning to Eve with a grave bow, “I ought perhaps to have gone to Mallorca at once to offer you what poor assistance was in my power. But circumstances, over which I had no control, prevented my doing so. My offer of help is tardy, I know, but it is none the less sincere.”
“Thank you,” replied Eve, conscious of a feeling of pleasant reliance in this new-found ally. “But I have good friends - the Padre Fortis, my uncle, and--a friend of ours, Mr. FitzHenry.”
“Of the Kittiwake--at Mahon?”
“Yes.”
“I have the pleasure of knowing Mr. FitzHenry,” murmured the Count. “Now,” he said, with a sudden smile which took her by surprise by reason of the alteration it made in the whole man, “will you do me a great favour?”
“I should like to,” answered Eve, with some hesitation.
“And you?” said the Count, turning to Captain Bontnor.
“Oh yes,” replied that sailor bluntly, “if it’s possible.”