Miss Talbot thought Mr. Daubeney rather curious. But still he was very nice, and unquestionably the services of the Blue-Bell might be more than useful.
So she was graciousness personified in her manner, and promptly determined to invite him to luncheon, thinking that the chance direction of their conversation with Mr. Brett might lead towards the use of the yacht being hinted at.
She counted without Fairholme. The latter slapped his heavy friend on the back.
"Look here, old chap, are you fixed up for a cruise? Plenty of coal, champagne, and all that sort of thing?"
"Loaded to the gunwales."
"That's all right, because we may want the Blue-Bell for a month or so."
"There she is," said Daubeney; "fit to go anywhere and do anything."
Miss Talbot had never heard such extraordinary conduct in her life. She wondered how two women would have conducted the negotiations. The question was too abstruse, so she gave it up and contented herself instead with accepting Daubeney's hearty request that they should inspect the yacht.
The Blue-Bell was an extremely smart little ship of 250 tons register, and an ordinary speed of twelve knots. Incidentally Miss Talbot discovered that the owner made the vessel his home. He was never happy away from her, and the Blue-Bell was known to every yachtsman from the Hebrides to the Golden Horn.