The sergeant demurred, but just then a dapper little man, whose snow-white hair and closely trimmed grey beard contrasted vividly with his brick-red complexion, came across the courtyard.
"What's this? Shipwrecked men?" he asked, scanning the somewhat dishevelled crowd of seamen, some of whom bore traces of hard knocks received in the struggle with the Somalis.
"These men are," replied Captain Restronguet. "I have not had that misfortune. Neither has my friend here. At the same time I wish to make an important communication to you in private."
"By all means," said the Consul. "This way. Simmons, will you please bring whisky and soda into the small study. I presume, gentlemen, you would like a peg?"
"Now," he continued, as Captain Restronguet, Captain Rees, and Hythe followed him into the room, "what can I do for you? Do you wish to make a statement on oath? If so, I must send for my secretary."
"The necessity for making a statement upon oath rests with you," replied Captain Restronguet. "Allow me to introduce myself as Captain John Restronguet, commanding the submarine 'Aphrodite,' which is now lying off the port."
The Consul stared at his informant for quite ten seconds, then recovering himself said stiffly, "This, sir, is neither the place nor occasion for a senseless joke."
"I agree with you."
"Then, why? The 'Aphrodite' was destroyed by that villain Karl von Harburg in the Red Sea more than a week ago."
"On whose authority did you hear this, might I ask?"