he stood there, at last a smile began to part his lips again. The Englishman sat gazing at him wonderingly, watching the inevitable turn to humor which things took with the American. Preston swung back to his companion.
"I know that you meant that in the kindest possible way, Mr. Dunneston," he mocked, smiling. "According to your nature, you have to believe that I am Mr. Manling and have been spending the summer in England robbing travellers to divert myself. Being forced, hereditarily, to believe that, why, you were really most generous in your offer to me a moment ago—and I mistook it!"
He turned back to the water-front below them and pointed out to it and the sound beyond.
"Look, Mr. Dunneston," he cried suddenly. "Tell me what do you think of when you see Plymouth Sound?"
"Why, only of Drake and the Armada, of course," the Englishman replied patiently. "Surely you know that Effingham brought his fleet here to wait for it; and here upon the
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