“Ah, how many men do you carry?” demanded the manager, his courage visibly returning.
“Blessed if I know,” replied his lordship. “How many men have we, doctor?”
“I never counted them, sir,” replied the doctor with a noncommittal air of indifference.
“They are scattered over the face of the country,” continued the chief. “Many of them are woodmen, and the rest are gamekeepers from my own estates in England. They can all shoot a bit—trust a gamekeeper for that.”
“And is your yacht built on the model of this boat of yours?”
“No. As I told you, it is built for comfort. I’d like very much to show her to you if you will honor me with a visit. Indeed, it is getting near to midday, so I should be delighted if you three gentlemen would be good enough to lunch with me. I can promise you a passable meal, some excellent wine, and cigars that will call up recollections of Havana.”
The manager whispered to the captain, who somewhat doubtfully nodded his head, as who would say: “Well, I suppose we’d better see what’s in this, anyway.”
The manager then spoke up:
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “We’ll be very glad of a bite and a drink and a smoke. My friend here is captain of the Rajah, and this is Mr. Thompson, the mate. I am Frowningshield, representing the owners of this district.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, gentlemen. My name is Stranleigh.”