"Claggett--your men!" his voice rose. "_Really._ They are making an _exhibition_ of themselves on the beach. Just as well there is no one to see but some aborigines. _Quite_ revolting. _How_ can you bear to associate with such _types_, when you are so much above them yourself--but there, I must not pique you, must I, poor Claggett? I expect your wound smarts a trifle?" Claggett Chew turned his face toward Osterbridge Hawsey, his eyes blazing with rage and his mouth working with the fretful annoyance of an ill man, but he only muttered and turned away again. "Do you know," his more delicate friend pursued, stretching out a long finger for the parakeet to perch on, which to his evident pleasure it instantly did, "Do you know, Claggett, this dear little creature seems fearless and almost human? _Quite_ touching." He paused, admiring the vivid colors of the feathers which perhaps awoke a kindred feeling in Osterbridge Hawsey, loving a fine display as he did. [Illustration] "I shall give you a name, my little feathered captive," he said, and pondered. "I wonder what would be suitable? Something French, undoubtedly." He waved a hand and the lace at his wrist fell forward in a not overly clean frill. "Louis, after the dear king? No--that would be too great an honor for so small a bird, gaudy though you are. I think, 'Monsieur,' after the king's brother. That's it. Little Monsieur." He broke off, dreamily. "To think that I once knew such a royal, such a distinguished man!" He sighed reminiscently. For the first time words came from Claggett Chew. He bit them off as if the saying of them cost him very great effort. "More _ex_tinguished than _dis_tinguished, I would say." Osterbridge Hawsey permitted a sad condescending smile to cross his face and he shook his finger at Claggett Chew. "Ah, Claggett--you never knew him, you see. I am _sure_ you would have liked him--such charm! So _distingué_. Oh dear me yes. A most _unusual_ royal personage," Osterbridge Hawsey said, smiling happily at his parakeet. "Most of them are so _much_ alike--" He singled out several fresh fruits, peeling some for Claggett Chew. Silence fell over the cabin except for Osterbridge Hawsey's delicately smacking lips as he finished the fruit and licked his fingers one by one, the increasingly heavy breathing of Claggett Chew, who fell asleep, and the distant sound of shouts and clamor from the shore. Osterbridge Hawsey made a pouting face at the sleeping figure of Chew; evidently Osterbridge was bored. He went to the door and clapped his hands, but no one responded. Except for the two men and the parakeet, the _Vulture_ was deserted. Osterbridge Hawsey came back into the cabin holding a bottle of wine which he uncorked and poured into a glass. Chris, foreseeing what would follow, hopped up to the back of his new master's chair where he hoped he would be forgotten, and tucked his head under his wing in case Osterbridge should look at him.