"Pardon," said the captain, "it is somewhat dark here, and as I was absorbed in thought. I did not notice you."
His English was excellent and his manner polite enough. John could do nothing less than respond in kind.
"It was perhaps my fault more than yours," he said.
The face of Captain von Boehlen relaxed yet further into a smile.
"You are an American," he said, "a member of an amiable race, our welcome guests in Europe. What could our hotels and museums do without you?"
When he smiled he showed splendid white teeth, sharp and powerful. His manner, too, had become compelling. John could not now deny its charm. Perhaps his first estimate of Captain von Boehlen had been wrong.
"It is true that we come in shoals," he responded. "Sometimes I'm not sure whether we're welcome to the general population."
"Oh, yes, you are. The Americans are the spoiled children of Europe."
"At least we are the children of Europe. The people on both sides of the Atlantic are apt to forget that. We're transplanted Europeans. The Indians are the only people of the original American stock."
"But you are not Europeans. One can always tell the difference. You speak English, but you are not English. I should never take an American for an Englishman."