It was full day when we went on board the yacht, and I did not fail to cast a quick glance of admiration on her beautiful lines and perfect shape as I clambered up the ladder, at the top of which stood Captain York.
"Welcome aboard," he said, giving us hearty hand-shakes; and without further inspection at that hour we followed him to the cabin, where steaming coffee brought the blood to our hands and feet, and put us in better mood.
"So my sister's here," said Roderick, as he filled his cup for the third time.
"Yes, last night, no orders," jerked the skipper with his usual brevity.
"Ah, we must see to that—and the second officer——"
"Still ashore; he left a bit of writing; he'll be aboard midday!"
He had the writing in his hand, and was about to crumple it, but I caught sight of it, and snatched it from him. It was in the same handwriting as the letter which Captain Black had sent to me at the Hôtel Scribe in Paris.
"What's the matter?" said Roderick, as he heard me exclaim; but the skipper looked hard at me, and was much mystified.
"Do you know anything of the man?" he asked very slowly, as he leant back in his chair, but I had already seen the folly of my ejaculation, and I replied—
"Nothing at all, although I have seen that handwriting before somewhere; I could tell you where, perhaps, if I thought."