"Good-morning. But you have the name wrong, sir."
"Beg pardon." The captain's eyebrows lifted in inquiry.
"Kilmeny," the American corrected.
Nonchalantly the captain came to time. "Same name as ours. Wonder if by any chance we're of the same family. Happen to be any relation of Archibald Kilmeny, who died in Colorado fifteen years ago?"
Jack looked at him quietly. "A son."
"Makes us cousins. He was my father's brother."
The Westerner nodded coolly, not in the least impressed. "Yes."
It would have been easy to read hostility in his bearing, but India sailed past her brother with hand extended. "Glad to meet you, Cousin Jack. 'Member me? Last time you saw me I was a squalling five-year-old."
The American warmed a trifle. "I remember you, all right. Never saw a kid before so fond of currant jam."
"Still am. You've improved in your personal appearance. Last time I saw your eye it had been beautifully blacked, kindness of Ned."