Geltman, now bewildered, limp and very much alarmed, suffered himself to be led shivering below by the two blue-shirted sailor-men. There he found the steward in the cabin with a drink, and the blue flannels, and a boy laying a warm breakfast in the saloon. He dressed. At table he discovered an appetite which even his troubled spirit had not abated. Hot coffee and a cigar completed his rehabilitation. His situation would have been an agreeable joke had it not been so tragic. He had learned enough to feel that he was powerless, that there had been some terrible mistake, and that the only way out of the difficulty was through the somewhat tortuous and sparsely buoyed channels of diplomacy. But he walked out upon deck with renewed confidence. It was early yet. If he could persuade his host of his mistake there was still time to run in shore where the telegraph might set all things right. The man in the yachting cap was smoking a pipe in the lee of the after hatch. "Will you please tell me your name?" began the brewer, constrainedly. "With all the good will in the world," said the other, rising. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm Doctor Norman Woolf of New York, and this," indicating the red-bearded man, "is Captain Weckerly of the _Pinta_. Captain Weckerly--Mr. Fehrenbach." Geltman started at the repetition of the name, but he gave no other sign. "Would you mind," said the brewer, "telling me how I came aboard your boat?" "Not at all," said Woolf, easily. "You see, when I cruise on the _Pinta_ I make it a point to leave all thought of my cases behind. But sometimes I break my rule, and when they told me of yours I made up my mind I should like to study you under intimate and extraordinary conditions and so----" "Really, I don't quite follow----" "And so I had to bring you out to the yacht on which I was just starting for a little run over to the Azores." "The Azores!" Dr. Woolf was smiling benignly at the unhappy brewer. "You know," he continued, "these cases of aphasia have a peculiar interest for me. It seems such a little slipping of the cogs. What's in a name, after all? Yours is an old and honored one. The Fehrenbachs have made beer for fifty years----" "It's a lie," shouted Geltman springing to his feet, unable longer to contain himself. "It's only thirty--and the stuff isn't fit to drink." "Pray be calm. Don't you know that if this was to get abroad, it would hurt your business?" "My business--the business of Geltman and Company----" "The business of Fehrenbach and Company," interrupted Dr. Woolf sternly. The unfortunate brewer with an effort contained himself. He knew that anger would avail him nothing. The only thing left was to listen patiently. He subsided again into his wicker chair and fastened his nervous gaze upon the distant horizon. "It's a pleasure to see you capable of self-control. If you can, I should like you to try and tell me how you happened to begin using the name of Geltman."