"Aye...."
"Who is this man, El Cojo?"
"No one knows. No one ever sees him. No one knows where he lives. Some say he is a Mexican. But his power is tremendous and his vengeance swift and terrible. I could tell you stories.... You should be safe on this yacht. But take my advice and don't leave it until you can go ashore under the American or the British flag!"
He gave me his hand.
"I shan't forget this service," I said warmly, "if there's anything I can ever do in return...."
"Well," he answered slowly, "I was recommended for the M.B.E. once. But the F.O. turned it down. If you had any influence...."
"If Sir Robert is still my friend," I assured him, "you shall have it. And perhaps it might be an O.B.E. Write me down your name and address...."
As we emerged on the deck the crew were busy getting the yacht ready for sea. There was a bit of commotion at the gangway. Garth and Captain Lawless stood at the head of the ladder in animated conversation with a very trim young man, beautifully dressed in spotless white drill.
"Hullo," said the Vice-Consul, "it's Custrin, your new doctor!"
"It's no good," Garth was saying as we approached the group, "we'll have to be away in ten minutes, doctor, and there's so much work going forward on deck that your friends would only be in the way...."