"We sail this morning," he explained, "and you will understand all that involves for me, monsieur." Allard responded cordially; it was so wonderful, so beautiful, just to meet other men again and be himself. And presently Lieutenant Vasili came to add his cheerful greeting and lead the way to the forward deck, where wicker chairs and small tables stood under a gay scarlet awning. "His Royal Highness told me this morning to amuse you, if I could," he declared. "Indeed, I think he left me behind for that purpose, Monsieur John." "Allard," the other corrected pleasantly. "I am infinitely obliged to his Royal Highness, then, I am sure." "A thousand pardons; I misunderstood your name last night." "Not exactly, his Royal Highness calls me John, my Christian name." Vasili's eyes opened and he regarded his companion with marked respect. "He told me he had known you a long time," he assented, "and that you had been ill. The voyage across will tone you up--if you are a good sailor--before we reach home." "I am a good sailor," Allard affirmed, rather astonished at Stanief's account of his health. He had no idea of the extreme delicacy of his own appearance, of how those years of torture had left him worn and colorless. Vasili tilted his chair against the rail and smiled engagingly. "For my part I am always happiest at sea," he confided. "Not that I am concerned with political affairs--_pas si bête_; I leave that for wiser heads. But still one is never secure in a country like ours. I walk straight ahead without asking questions, and hope the Grand Duke sees I am doing no more; nevertheless, one is more comfortable at sea. Ah, this America is a restful place! No intrigues, no rivals, no salt-mines in the background." "A delightful picture you are painting for me," suggested Allard laughingly. "Oh, you are the friend of his Royal Highness, monsieur. Moreover, every one believes an American or an Englishman when he declares himself with one party; it is only each other whom we always suspect. _Tiens_, the little white boat!" The little white boat in question was one of the city police launches, and Allard's hand closed sharply on the arm of his chair as the officer in charge hailed the yacht, signifying his intention of coming on board. Captain Delsar went down to receive the visitors, not without visible impatience at the interruption. "Come," exclaimed the diverted Vasili, after watching the colloquy for a few moments, during which several of the yacht's officers joined their chief. "If it is droll!" "What is it?" "Why, of course we all speak French--as does every one at home except peasants--but since Dancla went only the Grand Duke is left who speaks English. And evidently our guests have no French." Allard surveyed the group, and glanced up at the gorgeous flag fluttering in the breeze and casting its shadow over him. Foreign ground, Stanief had called this. "I might play interpreter," he offered slowly.