"Ah, but he means to convairt her," said Macfarlane seriously. "To draw the evil oot o' her, as it were. He said he wad do't by fair means or foul."
Something in these latter words struck Lorimer, for, raising himself in his seat, he asked, "Surely Mr. Dyceworthy, with all his stupidity, doesn't carry it so far as to believe in witchcraft?"
"Oh, indeed he does," exclaimed Duprèz; "he believes in it à la lettre! He has Bible authority for his belief. He is very firm—firmest when drunk!" And he laughed gaily.
Errington muttered something not very flattering to Mr. Dyceworthy's intelligence, which escaped the hearing of his friends; then he said—
"Come along, all of you, down into the saloon. We want something to eat. Let the Güldmars alone; I'm not a bit sorry I've asked them to come to-morrow. I believe you'll all like them immensely."
They all descended the stair-way leading to the lower part of the yacht, and Macfarlane asked as he followed his host—
"Is the lass vera bonnie did ye say?"
"Bonnie's not the word for it this time," said Lorimer, coolly answering instead of Errington. "Miss Güldmar is a magnificent woman. You never saw such a one, Sandy, my boy; she'll make you sing small with one look; she'll wither you up into a kippered herring! And as for you, Duprèz," and he regarded the little Frenchman critically, "let me see,—you may possibly reach up to her shoulder,—certainly not beyond it."
"Pas possible!" cried Duprèz. "Mademoiselle is a giantess."
"She needn't be a giantess to overtop you, mon ami," laughed Lorimer with a lazy shrug. "By Jove, I am sleepy, Errington, old boy; are we never going to bed? It's no good waiting till it's dark here, you know."