"Yes--in pajamas," he cried, hotly. And with an imprecation he strode past the outraged servant and rushed through the saloon and up the companion. As he raised his head and shoulders above the deck he was immediately aware of a chill wind which was singing sharply through the rigging. A gentleman, in a double-breasted suit and yachting cap, was standing aft steadying a telescope toward a distant schooner. By his side was a short and very stocky man with a bushy red beard and brass buttons. "What is the meaning of this outrage?" he cried, wildly addressing the man in the yachting cap. "Are you the owner of this yacht?" The gentleman calmly lowered his telescope, passed it to the bearded man, turned mildly toward the tousled apparition and looked at him from top to toe while the sportive wind gleefully defined Geltman's generous figure. "I say, old man," he said, smiling, "hadn't you better get into some clothes?" "C--clothes be----" chattered Geltman. "I've been drugged, kidnapped, and shanghaied! Somebody's going to smart for this. Who are you? What does it mean?" The enraged brewer, with his arms waving, his slender garment flapping, his inflamed countenance and ruffled hair, presented the wildest appearance imaginable. The man in the yachting cap wore an expression of commiseration and exchanged a significant glance with the red-bearded man. "There now," said he, raising a protesting hand, "we're all your friends aboard here. You're in no danger at all, except--" he smiled at the brewer's costume--"except from a bad cold." "What does this outrage mean?" cried Geltman anew. "You'll suffer for it. As long as I have a dollar left in the world----" "You really don't mean that," said the gentleman. "Go below now, that's a good fellow, get breakfast and some clothes." "No, I'll n--not," said the brewer in chilly syncopation. "I'm Carl Geltman, of Henry Geltman and Company, and I want an explanation of this outrage." The two men exchanged another look, and the red-bearded one tapped his forehead twice with a blunt forefinger. "I haven't the least idea what you're talking about, Mr. Fehrenbach," said the man in the yachting cap, calmly. "Fehrenbach!" cried the brewer. "My name isn't Fehrenbach!" he screamed. "Otto Fehrenbach is on the East Side. I'm on the West. My name is Geltman, I tell you!" The man in blue looked gravely down at the astonished brewer and pushed a bell on the side of the cabin skylight. "That was one of the symptoms, Weckerly," he said aside to the man with the red beard. "Yes, Doctor," said the other quizzically. "The sea air ought to do him a lot of good."