She laughed a low, sweet laugh which harmonized with her pale beauty, and Britton felt some unexplained fascination as her green-blue eyes held his.
The launch bumped the Mottisfont's side abaft of the great hole which the Constantine's prow had torn. The occupants surveyed the black, yawning break somewhat ruefully before they stepped on deck.
"What the deuce will the Honorable Oliver Britton say when he finds his nephew has smashed up his floating palace?" asked Ainsworth, meditatively.
"My honorable uncle will never see it till it is restored to its original state," Rex answered. "And the Moroccan Steamship Company, owners of the Constantine, will pay for the restoration."
"What a legal beacon you might have been!" sighed Cyril, generously. "But this pin-scratch they gave you in the arm!––who pays the doctor-bill?"
"That is my affair," said the lady of the adventure, very sweetly, "and it is time it was given attention." She took Britton's sleeve and drew him to the companionway. There Rex paused and hailed the bridge.
"Daniels, get us in close to the eastern jetty at once and anchor there. We don't know how badly we're damaged, so moor right under it."
"Aye, aye, sir," the captain answered.
"And send me the steward," Britton added.
"Here he is, sir! Bannon, go forward."