Fitz went towards him holding out his hand, which the captain took after a manfully repressed desire to wipe his own broad palm on the seam of his trousers. "Then you are my uncle?" said Eve, coming forward. "Yes, miss, I'm afraid--that is--yes, I'm your uncle. You see--I'm only a rough sort of fellow." He came a little nearer and held his arms apart, looking down at his own person in humble deprecation. Eve was holding out her hand. He took it with a vague, deep-rooted chivalry, and she, stooping, very deliberately kissed him. This seemed rather to bewilder the captain, for he shook hands again with Fitz. "I--" he began, nodding into Fitz's face. "You are--eh? I didn't expect--to see--I didn't know--" At that moment Eve saw. It came to her in a flash, as most things do come to women. She even had time to doubt the story about Luke. "This," she said, with crimson cheeks, "is Mr. FitzHenry of the Kittiwake. He kindly came to us in our trouble. You will have to thank him afterwards--uncle." "And in the meantime I expect you want breakfast?" put in Fitz, carefully avoiding Eve. "Yes," added the girl, "of course. Sit down. No, here!" "Thankye--thankye, miss--my dear, I mean. Oh, anything'll do for me. A bit of bread and a cup o' tea. I had a bit and a sup on board before she sheered alongside the quay." He looked round rather helplessly, wondering where he should put his hat--a solid, flat-crowned British affair. Eve took it from him and laid it aside. Captain Bontnor sat very stiffly down. His square form did not seem to lose any of its height by the change of position, and with a stiff back he looked admiringly round the room, waiting like a child at a school treat. As the meal progressed he grew more at ease, telling them of the little difficulties of his journey, avoiding with a tact not always found inside a better coat all mention of the sad event which had caused him to take this long journey after his travelling days were done. That which set him at ease more than all else was the fact, at length fully grasped, that Fitz was, like himself, a sailor. Here at least was a topic upon which he could converse with any man. General subjects only were discussed, as if by tacit consent. No mention was made of the future until this was somewhat rudely brought before their notice by the announcement that a second visitor desired to see the senorita. With a more assured manner than that of his predecessor, a small, dark man came into the room, throwing off his cloak and handing it to the servant. He bowed ceremoniously and with true Spanish grace to Eve, with less ceremony and more dignity to the two men.