‘No sir, I am not an admiral,’ returned Van Tromp, who now began to grow nettled and enter into the spirit of the interview.
‘Then why do you call yourself one, sir?’
‘I have to ask your pardon, I do not,’ says Van Tromp, as grand as the Pope.
But nothing was of avail against the Squire.
‘You sail under false colours from beginning to end,’ he said. ‘Your very house was taken under a sham name.’
‘It is not my house. I am my daughter’s guest,’ replied the Admiral. ‘If it were my house—’
‘Well?’ said the Squire, ‘what then? hey?’
The Admiral looked at him nobly, but was silent.
‘Look here,’ said Mr. Naseby, ‘this intimidation is a waste of time; it is thrown away on me, sir; it will not succeed with me. I will not permit you even to gain time by your fencing. Now, sir, I presume you understand what brings me here.’
‘I am entirely at a loss to account for your intrusion,’ bows and waves Van Tromp.