He was tall, sinewy, and would have been considered handsome were it not for the yellow hue of skin which all travelers in tropical climes are bound to acquire.
Cecil Clifford had traveled the world over. His hobby was archæology, and as he was a man of large means and a member of many historical and scientific societies, he was able to pursue his researches to any extent.
He was the only passenger aboard the Aurelian, and was returning to New York from Honduras with a thrilling purpose in view.
What this purpose was only he and Captain Hartley knew.
“I only hope that Mr. Parker received our cable from Havana, and will be at the wharf to meet us,” remarked Captain Hartley.
“So do I,” agreed Clifford. “Is it not possible that he will come down to meet us in a tug?”
The captain shook his head with a wry face.
“Humph!” he said; “you do not know Gilbert Parker. He is the most penurious man in America. Do you think he would put out the money to employ a tug? Depend upon it—never!”
“Yet our cablegram may excite his cupidity. Did you not specify that it was a matter of moment, involving perhaps millions?”
“I did, but I do not fancy he would heed that. He is a very close, snug man of business, this Gilbert Parker. The Aurelian is all the property he owns in the world and every cent of profit she turns him in from her voyages he with miserly proclivity stores away.”