“I wish to inquire to what unfortunate circumstances we are indebted for your company on board the Jeanne D’Arc.”  The voice was cool, and sharp as a meat-ax.

“Why, to your own kind-heartedness.  I was a derelict and you took me in—­saved my life, in fact; for which I am profoundly grateful.  And I hope my presence here is not too great a burden?”

“I am obliged to say that your presence here is most unwelcome.  Moreover, I am aware that your previous actions are open to suspicion, to express it mildly.  You threw yourself off the tug; and as this as not a pleasure yacht, but the vessel of a high official speeding on a most important business matter, I said to the captain, ’Let him swim!  Or, if he wishes to die, why should we thwart him?’ But the captain referred to the ‘etiquette of the line,’ as he calls it, and picked you up.  So you have not me to thank for not being among the fishes this minute.”

Jimmy pulled his blanket about and sat up on his bunk.  The sarcastic voice stirred his bile, and suddenly there boomed in his memory a woman’s call for help.  The hooded motor-car, the muffled cry of terror, the inert figure being lifted over the side of the yacht—­these things crowded on his brain and fired him to a sudden, unreasoning fury.  He leaned over, looking sharply into the other’s face.

“You damned scoundrel!” he said, choking with his anger.  The blood surged into his face and eyes; he was, for an instant, a primitive savage.  He could have laid violent hands on the other man and done him to death, in the fashion of the half-gods who lived in the twilight of history.

The visitor in the fo’cas’le exhibited a neat row of teeth and no resentment whatever at Jim’s remark, But a sharp glitter shot from his eyes as he replied suavely: 

“Monsieur has doubtless mistaken this ship, and probably its master also, for some other less worthy adventurer on the sea.  For that very reason I have come to set you right.  It may be that I have my quixotic moments.  At any rate, I have a fancy to give you a gentleman’s chance.  Monsieur, I regret the necessity of being inhospitable, but I am forced to say that you must quit the shelter of this yacht within twenty-four hours.”

The thin, sarcastic voice and clean-cut syllables fanned the flame of Jimmy’s rage.  He felt impotent, moreover, which never serves as a poultice to anger.  But he got himself in hand, though imitation courtesy was not much in his line.  He tuned his big hearty voice to a pitch with the Frenchman’s nasal pipe, and clipped off his words in mimicry.

“And to whom, pray, shall I have the honor to say farewell, at the auspicious moment when I jump overboard?”

“Gently, you American, gently!” said the other.  “My friends, and some of my enemies, know me as Monsieur Chatelard.”  As he paused for an impressive instant, Jim, grabbing his blanket, stood up in derision and executed an elaborate bow in as foreign a manner as he could command.  Monsieur Chatelard politely waved him down and continued: