A look of annoyance came into the face of the stranger.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “It was a most important part of my plan that we should know about how fast the House-boat was.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Socrates, with ill-concealed sarcasm. “If you’ll take Xanthippe’s word for it, the House-boat was the fastest yacht afloat.”
“I refer to the matter of speed in sailing,” returned the stranger, quietly. “The question of its ethical speed has nothing to do with it.”
“The designer of the craft is here,” said Sir Walter, fixing his eyes upon Sir Christopher Wren. “It is possible that he may be of assistance in settling that point.”
“What has all this got to do with the question, anyhow, Mr. Chairman?” asked Solomon, rising impatiently and addressing Sir Walter. “We aren’t preparing for a yacht-race that I know of. Nobody’s after a cup, or a championship of any kind. What we do want is to get our wives back. The Captain hasn’t taken more than half of mine along with him, but I am interested none the less. The Queen of Sheba is on board, and I am somewhat interested in her fate. So I ask you what earthly or unearthly use there is in discussing this question of speed in the House-boat. It strikes me as a woful waste of time, and rather unprecedented too, that we should suspend all rules and listen to the talk of an entire stranger.”
“‘WHAT HAS ALL THIS GOT TO DO WITH THE QUESTION?’”
“I do not venture to doubt the wisdom of Solomon,” said Johnson, dryly, “but I must say that the gentleman’s remarks rather interest me.”
“Of course they do,” ejaculated Solomon. “He agreed with you. That ought to make him interesting to everybody. Freaks usually are.”