“Will you have a little drink?” Bellair inquired. “That is, if you know a place around here. I’m from across.” The other was not unwilling. They walked up the pier together. A place was found. “Does the _Jade_ belong to the Hatmos people?” Bellair asked. “No. We’re agents for Stackhouse. By the way, he’s aboard the _Jade_--just left the office a half hour ago. The Hatmos son and heir went home in a cab, like his father used to, when Stackhouse blew in from the South Seas----” “The big man who stood aft as the ship cleared?” Bellair suggested. “Hairy neck--clothes look like pajamas?” “Yes.” “That must have been Stackhouse. He’s the biggest man in Peloponasia----” Bellair wondered if he meant Polynesia. “You mean in size?” “Possibly that, but I meant--interests. Owns whole islands and steam-fleets, but hates steam. Does his pleasure riding under canvas. Comes up to New York every third year with a new Japanese wife. Used to spend his time drinking with old Hatmos--now he’s trying to kill off the younger generation. Lives at the _Florimel_ while in New York, and teaches the dago barboys how to make tropical drinks. If he had stayed longer, he would have got to me. Young Hatmos is about finished.” Bellair breathed deeply, strangely alive. “Where does the _Jade_ call first after leaving here?” “Savannah--then one or two South American ports--then around the Horn and the long up-beat to the Islands.” “Why, that might mean four months.” Bellair spoke with a touch of wistfulness. They emerged to the street at length, and the New Yorker started shyly back to the pier. The Hatmos man laughed. “You fall for the sailing-stuff, don’t you?” “Yes, it’s got me. Do they take passengers?” “Sure, if you’re in no hurry. Here and there, some one like you--just for the voyage. Two or three on board from here.... One a preacher. He’d better look out. Stackhouse hates to drink alone.” “Thanks. Good-bye.”