The proprietor fidgeted. He walked to the door and looked down the street in the direction of the quays. He pulled his watch from his pocket and compared it with the blue face of the Dutch clock on the wall. His pudgy hands clasped and unclasped themselves behind his back nervously. An Arab hotel porter and runner at the docks came swinging through the front door with a small steamer trunk on his shoulders, and Almer started forward expectantly. Behind the porter came a tall well-knit man, dressed in quiet traveling suit--the Captain Woodhouse who had sailed from Alexandria as a passenger aboard the _Princess Mary_. He paused for an instant as his eyes met those of the proprietor. Almer bowed and hastened behind the desk. Woodhouse stepped up to the register and scanned it casually. "A room, sir?" Almer held out a pen invitingly. "For the night, yes," Woodhouse answered shortly, and he signed the register. Almer's eyes followed the strokes of the pen eagerly. "Ah, from Egypt, Captain? You were aboard the _Princess Mary_, then?" "From Alexandria, yes. Show me my room, please. Beastly tired." The Arab porter darted forward, and Woodhouse was turning to follow him when he nearly collided with a man just entering the street door. It was Mr. Billy Capper. Both recoiled as their eyes met. Just the faintest flicker of surprise, instantly suppressed, tightened the muscles of the captain's jaws. He murmured a "Beg pardon" and started to pass. Capper deliberately set himself in the other's path and, with a wry smile, held out his hand. "Captain Woodhouse, I believe." Capper put a tang of sarcasm, corroding as acid, into the words. He was still smiling. The other man drew back and eyed him coldly. "I do not know you. Some mistake," Woodhouse said. Almer was moving around from behind the desk with the soft tread of a cat, his eyes fixed on the hard-bitten face of Capper. "Hah! Don't recognize the second-cabin passengers aboard the _Princess Mary_, eh?" Capper sneered. "Little bit discriminating that way, eh? Well, my name's Capper--Mr. William Capper. Never heard the name--in Alexandria; what?" "You are drunk. Stand aside!" Woodhouse spoke quietly; his face was very white and strained. Almer launched himself suddenly between the two and laid his hands roughly on Capper's thin shoulders. "Out you go!" he choked in a thick guttural. "I'll have no loafer insulting guests in my house." "Oh, you won't, won't you? But supposing I want to take a room here--pay you good English gold for it. You'll sing a different tune, then." "Before I throw you out, kindly leave my place." By a quick turn, Almer had Capper facing the door; his grip was iron. The smaller man tried to walk to the door with dignity. There he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Remember, Captain Woodhouse," he called back. "Remember the name against the time we'll meet again. Capper--Mr. William Capper."