Chater and I drank wine of a brand which only a millionaire could keep in his cellar, while our host, apparently a most abstemious man, took only a glass of iced Cinciano water.
The two smart stewards served in a manner which showed them to be well trained to their duties, and as the evening light filtering through the pale blue silk curtains over the open port-holes slowly faded, we gossiped on as men will gossip over an unusually good dinner.
From his remarks I discerned that, contrary to my first impression, Hylton Chater was an experienced yachtsman.

He owned a craft called the _Alicia_, and was a member of the Cork Yacht Club.

He lived in London, he told me, but gave me no information as to his profession.

It might be the law, as I had surmised.
"You've seen our ass of a captain, Mr.Gregg ?" he remarked presently.
"What do you think of him ?" "Well," I said rather hesitatingly, "to tell the truth, I don't think very much of his seamanship--nor will the Board of Trade when his report reaches them." "Ah!" exclaimed Hornby, "I was a fool to engage him.

From the very first I mistrusted him, only my wife somehow took a fancy to the fellow, and, as you know, if you want peace you must always please the women.