“But, dammy, it's not all I want to know!” shouted Cable, suddenly, with a bang of his little, thick fist on the table. “I've been thinking since I lay here--been sleeping badly, and took the anchor watch meself--what I want to know is whether I'm to be treated gentlemanly!” “In what way?” inquired Cartoner, gently. And the sound of his voice seemed to pacify the captain. “Of course,” he admitted, “I'm not a gentleman, I know that; but in seafaring things I'll be treated as such. Truth is, I'm afraid it's something to do with this news from St. Petersburg. And I don't take any bombmen on board my ship, and that's flat.” “I think I can assure you on that point,” said Cartoner. “Nobody who had to do with the assassination of the Czar is likely to be in Dantzic. But I do not know whom you are to take on board here.” “May be as you can guess,” suggested the captain. “Yes, I think I can guess,” admitted Cartoner, with his slow smile. “But you won't tell me?” “No. When do you expect them?” “I'll answer that and ask you another,” said Captain Cable, getting a yellow decanter from a locker beneath the table. “That's port--ship-chandler's port. I won't say it's got a bokay, mind.” For Captain Cable's hospitality was not showy or self-sufficient. “I'll answer that and ask you another. I expected them last night. They'll likely come down with the tide, soon after midnight to-night. And now I'll ask you, what brought you aboard this ship, here in Dantzic River, Mr. Cartoner?” “A letter from a Frenchman you know as well as I do--Paul Deulin. Like to read it?” And Cartoner laid the letter before Captain Cable, who smiled contemptuously. He knew what was expected of a gentleman better than even to glance at it as it lay before him in its envelope. “No, I wouldn't,” he answered. He scratched his head reflectively, and looked beneath his bushy brows at Cartoner as if he expected the ship-chandler's port to have an immediate effect of some sort. “Got your luggage in the boat alongside?” he asked, at length. “No. It's at the station.” “Then let me send a hand ashore for it. Got three Germans furard. You'll come aboard and see this thing through, I hope.” “Thank you,” answered Cartoner. He handed Captain Cable the ticket for his luggage. “Mate's receipt?” inquired the captain. And Cartoner nodded. The captain pushed the decanter towards his guest as he rose to go and give the necessary orders. “No stint of the wine,” he said, and went out on deck. When he came back he laid the whole question aside, and devoted himself to the entertainment of his guest. They both slept in the afternoon. For the captain had been up all night, and fully expected to see no bed the following night. “If they come down with the tide we'll go to sea on the same ebb,” he said, as he lay down on his state-room locker and composed himself to sleep.