“A very poor patron, my dear man,” was the answer.  “Merely a humble worshipper at the shrine.  And I might say that I partake of its benefits as much as a gentleman may.  And yet,” he added, with a laugh and a cough, “those silly newspapers and magazines insist on calling me a literary man.”

“And now that you have indulged in a question, and the claret is coming on,” said he, “perhaps you will tell me something of yourself, Mr. Carvel, and of your friend, Captain Paul.  And how you come to be so far from home.”  And he settled himself comfortably to listen, as a man who has bought his right to an opera box.

Here was my chance.  And I resolved that if I did not further enlighten John Paul, it would be no fault of mine.

“Sir,” I replied, in as dry a monotone as I could assume, “I was kidnapped by the connivance of some unscrupulous persons in my colony, who had designs upon my grandfather’s fortune.  I was taken abroad in a slaver and carried down to the Caribbean seas, when I soon discovered that the captain and his crew were nothing less than pirates.  For one day all hands got into a beastly state of drunkenness, and the captain raised the skull and cross-bones, which he had handy in his chest.  I was forced to climb the main rigging in order to escape being hacked to pieces.”

He sat bolt upright, those little eyebrows of his gone up full half an inch, and he raised his thin hands with an air of incredulity.  John Paul was no less astonished at my little ruse.

“Holy Saint Clement!” exclaimed our host; “pirates!  This begins to have a flavour indeed.  And yet you do not seem to be a lad with an imagination.  Egad, Mr. Carvel, I had put you down for one who might say, with Alceste:  ‘Etre franc et sincere est mon plus grand talent.’  But pray go on, sir.  You have but to call for pen and ink to rival Mr. Fielding.”

With that I pushed back my chair, got up from the table, and made him a bow.  And the captain, at last seeing my drift, did the same.

“I am not used at home to have my word doubted, sir,” I said.  “Sir, your humble servant.  I wish you a very good evening.”  He rose precipitately, crying out from his gout, and laid a hand upon my arm.

“Pray, Mr. Carvel, pray, sir, be seated,” he said, in some agitation.  “Remember that the story is unusual, and that I have never clapped eyes on you until to-night.  Are all young gentlemen from Maryland so fiery?  But I should have known from your face that you are incapable of deceit.  Pray be seated, captain.”

I was persuaded to go on, not a little delighted that I had scored my point, and broken down his mask of affectation and careless cynicism.  I told my story, leaving out the family history involved, and he listened with every mark of attention and interest.  Indeed, to my surprise, he began to show some enthusiasm, of which sensation I had not believed him capable.

“What a find! what a find!” he continued to exclaim, when I had finished.  “And true.  You say it is true, Mr. Carvel?”