I saw that he wished the interview terminated, as, for the last few minutes, he had exhibited signs of uneasiness. I therefore rose and said,—rather stammeringly, I am afraid:
“Mr. Hemster, I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness in——”
“Oh, that’s all right; that’s all right,” he replied hastily, waving his hand; but before anything further could be spoken there came up on deck the most beautiful and stately creature I had ever beheld, superbly attired. She cast not even a glance at me, but hurried toward Mr. Hemster, crying impetuously:
“Oh, Poppa! I want to go into the town and shop!”
“Quite right, my dear,” said the old man; “I wonder you’ve been so long about it. We’ve been in harbor two or three hours. This is Mr. Rupert Tremorne, my new private secretary. Mr. Tremorne, my daughter.”
I made my bow, but it seemed to pass unnoticed.
“How do you do,” said the girl hastily; then, to her father, “Poppa, I want some money!”
“Certainly, certainly, certainly,” repeated the old gentleman, plunging his hand into his other pocket and pulling out another handful of the “necessary.” As I learned afterward, each of his pockets seemed to be a sort of safe depository, which would turn forth any amount of capital when searched. He handed the accumulation to her, and she stuffed it hastily into a small satchel that hung at her side.
“You are going to take Miss Stretton with you?” he asked.
“Why, of course.”