The Frenchman bowed. He had lost his hat.
"Permettez-moi, messieurs!" he exclaimed, and gravely produced a saturated visiting-card on which were the words "Raoul de la Voie, Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur".
Mr. Armitage suggested to his involuntary guest that perhaps the crew of the Olivette might conduct salvage operations. The boat had stopped, with her engines running well throttled down, close to the place where the hydro-glisseur had disappeared, a ready clue being afforded by the oil rising in a steady, far-spreading stream to the surface.
Monsieur de la Voie listened with perfect gravity to the Scoutmaster's halting attempt to put his thoughts into words in the French language. Mr. Armitage "stuck" badly. His vocabulary was usually good, but at the present time he had the greatest difficulty in finding his words, and his dictionary was in one of his portmanteaux in the after-cabin.
"Excuse me," remarked the Frenchman, with an almost perfect English accent, "but if you will kindly talk in English, no doubt I will be able to follow you better."
"Thanks awfully," replied Mr. Armitage, falling back upon his mother-tongue. Then he added gravely, "I hope you are feeling quite chirpy now."
"Chirpy?" queried the Frenchman.
"Chirpy—bucked," prompted the Scoutmaster.
Monsieur de la Voie's face wore a puzzled expression. But he would not admit defeat, for, producing a saturated pocket-dictionary, he looked up the perplexing words.
"Ah, yes," he continued, with a smile. "I'm feeling absolutely top-hole, thank you, notwithstanding an unusual style of bathing in the Seine. Salvage? Hardly necessary to trouble you, sir; you've done quite enough for us as it is, but if you will buoy the spot, one of my barges will conduct the operations. If you will be good enough to give my mechanic and me a passage to Rouen?"