“The Princess Danleno,” said Brentin.
“Some such name. She had left Cannes and gone to San Remo, and Mr. Van Ginkel was anxious to see her and effect a reconciliation, so the captain told me. He is full of caprice, like all invalids, and on the caprice seizing him he simply bouted ship without a word. But first he had to get rid of me; so he carried me, full speed ahead, to the southernmost point of Greece—somewhere near Cape Colonna, I believe—and there he carted me ashore, gentlemen, like a sack of coals.”
The poor man’s lip began to tremble again, and he looked round our circle piteously for sympathy.
“Dear! dear!” murmured Brentin; “how like him! And never said a word the whole time, I dare say?”
“Not one! That was early on Monday morning. Since then I have been slowly making my way up the Morea with great difficulty and discomfort, mainly on foot, and sometimes getting a lift in a country wagon. At Nauplia I managed to secure a passage in a coasting steamer, which, after a tempestuous voyage, has just landed me at the Piræus. There I saw your yacht, gentlemen, and knew, of course, you were in the neighborhood.”
“How did you manage about the language in the Peloponnese?” asked Hines, curiously.
“Why, fortunately, I can draw a little,” replied the detective, who was every moment recovering his spirits, “and anything I wanted I drew. But, often as I drew a beefsteak or a chop, gentlemen,” he said, plaintively, “I never got it. Nothing but eggs and a sort of polenta, and once—only once—goat’s flesh, when I drew a bedstead, in token that I wanted to sleep there. And the fleas, gentlemen, the fleas!” he cried. “There is a large Greek flea—”
“Never mind that just now,” said Brentin, gravely. “There are elegant and refined ladies present. The essential is you are safe, and bear us all no malice. That is so, eh?”
“None in the world!” cried the good fellow. “But I shall be much obliged if you will give me directions how to get home from the Acropolis in Athens to Brixton. I have no money to speak of, and a large hole in my right boot.”
“That will be all right, sir,” said Brentin, rising, with his grand air. “Henceforth you are our guest. By-gones are by-gones, and we will look after you till you are safely landed at Charing Cross.”