"I have," Peter Gross replied.
"Ah, from Kapitein Enckel, I suppose," Van Slyck remarked urbanely. "Your name is—" He paused significantly.
"It is from his excellency, the Jonkheer Van Schouten," Peter Gross corrected quietly.
Peter Gross's tolerance of this interrogation convinced Van Slyck that he had to do with an inferior intelligence suddenly elevated to an important position and very much at sea in it.
"And your message, I understand, is for Mynheer Muller, the controlleur?" the captain inquired loftily with a pert uptilt of his chin.
"For Mynheer Muller, the controlleur," Peter Gross acknowledged gravely.
"Ah, yes. This is Mynheer Muller." He indicated the controlleur with a flourish. "But you have not yet told us your name."
"I am Peter Gross."
"Ah, yes, Pieter Gross. Pieter Gross." The captain repeated the name with evident relish. "Pieter Gross. Mynheer Pieter Gross."
There was a subtle emphasis on the mynheer—a half-doubtful use of the word, as though he questioned Peter Gross's right to a gentleman's designation. It was designed to test the sailor.