"No, not long," answered Captain Bontnor slowly, as if meditating; then suddenly he burst into his story. "You see, sir," he said, "I'm getting on in years, and I'm not quite the build for foreign travel. It sort of flurries me. I'm a bit past it. I'm not here for pleasure, you know." This seemed to have the effect of sending Lord Seahampton off into a brown study--not apparently of great value so far as depth of thought was concerned. He looked as if he were wondering whether he himself was in Barcelona for pleasure or not. "No," he murmured encouragingly, "It is like this," pursued Captain Bontnor, confidentially. "My sister, Amelia Ann, married above her." "Very much to her credit," said Lord Seahampton, with a stolid face and a twinkle in his eye. "And--" "Died." "Dear, dear!" "Yes," pursued the captain, "she died nineteen years ago, leaving a little girl. He's dead now--Mr. Challoner. He's my brother-in-law, but I call him Mr. Challoner, because he's above me." "I trust he is," said Lord Seahampton, cheerfully, with a glance at the painted ceiling. "I trust he is." The captain chuckled. "I mean in a social way," he explained. "And now he's dead, his daughter Eve is left quite alone in the world, and she telegraphed for me. She is living in the Island of Majorca." "Ah!" The kindly old blue eyes flashed round on his companion's face. "Do you know it?" The peer thrust forward his chin and spoilt what small claims he had to good looks. "No; I've heard of it, though. I know of a wom--a lady, who has large estates there--a Mrs. Harrington." "The Honourable Mrs. Harrington is a sort of relation of my niece's, Miss Challoner. I call her Miss Challoner, although she is my niece, because she is above me." His lordship glanced at the ceiling again. "I mean she is a lady. And I'm going to Majorca to fetch her. At least, I'm trying to get there, but I cannot somehow find out about the boat. They're a bit irregular, it seems, and this stupid jabbering of theirs does flurry me so. Now, what's this? Eh? Pudding, is it? Well, it doesn't look like it. No, thank ye!" The poor old man was soon upset by insignificant trifles, and after he had given way to a little burst of petulance like this, he had a strange, half pathetic way of staring straight in front of him for a few seconds, as if collecting himself again. It happened that Lord Seahampton was a good-natured young man, with rather a soft heart, such as many horsey persons possess. Something in Captain Bontnor touched him; some simple British quality which he was pleased to meet with, thus, in a foreign land. "Look here," he said, "I'll go out with you afterwards and find out all about the boat, take your ticket, and fix the whole thing up."