“That episode is concluded,” remarked the lady, and I really believe she was sorry.
Gustavus and I lighted cigars, and then found comfortable easy-chairs at a point where the sea air would not be too strong.
“Now, please begin at the beginning,” pleaded my feminine auditor, and I could remember the time when I thought Diana the fairest of her sex, for she had been an old flame of mine until I met Hildegarde.
So, feeling very comfortable after my experience ashore and afloat, and with the yacht dancing over the starlit waves of the Caribbean Sea, I began my story of a night in Bolivar’s gay metropolis.
CHAPTER XVII.
AT TWO BELLS.
I have never considered myself much of a yarn-spinner, even though a yachtsman by choice; but if ever a man had the material for an engaging story thrust upon him, I certainly came under that head.
Since sunset on this amazing evening, there had fallen to my lot a series of the most remarkable adventures the mind of mortal man could ever conceive.
Indeed, the only trouble I found in relating my unique experiences was not to tell too much.
There was danger of that.