His ill humor was not decreased when Judson returned, after a long delay, and reported that the mail had been sent to the steamer.  Not content with being the bearer of this unpleasant news, Judson committed the indiscretion of waxing eloquent over the charms of Japan.  Percival considered it impertinent in an inferior to express enthusiasm for anything that was under the ban of his disapproval.  Before the discussion ended it became his painful duty to remind Judson of the fact that he was an ass.

At tiffin-time, when he descended to the dining-room, owing to the recent arrival of two steamers, all the tables were engaged.  There was one in the corridor, he was told, if he did not mind another gentleman.  He did mind; he much preferred a table alone, but he also wanted his luncheon.  He followed the unctuous head waiter the length of the big dining-room, winding in and out among the small tables, only to emerge finally into the corridor and find himself face to face with his bete noire, Captain Boynton.

“Hello!  Can’t lose you,” was the captain’s gruff greeting.  “How does it happen that you aren’t off with the crowd doing the sights?”

“Sights bore me,” said Percival, unfolding his napkin with an air of lassitude.

“Crowds, too, eh?  Twoing more in your line?”

The remark was treated with contemptuous silence while Percival devoted himself to the menu.

“Seen that girl of mine since she came ashore?” continued the captain.

“Miss Boynton?” asked Percival, as if not quite sure of the identity of the person inquired for.  “Oh, yes, I believe I did see her early this morning.  She went out with Mr. Black.”

“Good!  He’ll show her a thing or two.”

“Rather extraordinary,” Percival could not help commenting, “the way young American girls go about alone like that.”

“Alone?  What’s the matter with Andy?”

“But I mean unchaperoned.  Dare say young Black is very good in his way, but he can’t be called discreet.”

“How do you mean?”

“Taking your daughter into that nasty mess of Chinamen in the steerage, for instance, to watch them play fan-tan.”

“What of that?  She only lost a couple of quarters and had a dollar’s worth of fun.  Can’t see it was any worse than keeping her out at the prow until midnight, or taking her up to the crow’s-nest.”  The captain pushed back his chair, and smiled with maddening significance.  “See here, my young friend, you needn’t worry about Bobby.  She’s been taking care of herself for twenty years.  You better look after yourself.”

The Honorable Percival did not answer.  He got his eye-glass right and looked straight ahead of him.

But the captain was not through.  He leaned across the table and shook a warning finger: 

“Beware of J. Lucy,” he said, then he took a smiling departure.

Through the rest of the meal and well into the afternoon Percival puzzled his brain over that cryptic warning.  When its meaning dawned upon him he flung “Guillim’s Display of Heraldry” clear across the room, and used language not becoming an English gentleman.  He assured himself for the hundredth time that Americans were the most odious people in the world, and the captain the most convincing proof of it.