"
"Then by all means let us go, my lord!" said Larpent, with the faint
glimmer of a smile behind his beard, which was the only expression of
humour he ever permitted himself.
"Believe you're fed up too," said Saltash, flashing a critical look upon
him.
Captain Larpent said nothing, deeming speech unnecessary. All time spent
ashore was wasted in his opinion.
Saltash turned and surveyed the sky-line over the yacht's rail with
obvious discontent on his ugly face. His eyes were odd, one black, one
grey, giving a curiously unstable appearance to a countenance which
otherwise might have claimed to possess some strength. His brows were
black and deeply marked. He had a trick of moving them in conjunction
with his thoughts so that his face was seldom in absolute repose. It was
said that there was a strain of royal blood in Saltash, and in the days
before he had succeeded to the title when he had been merely Charles
Burchester, he had borne the nickname of "the merry monarch." Certain
wild deeds in a youth that had not been beyond reproach had seemed to
warrant this, but of later years a friend had bestowed a more gracious
title upon him, and to all who could claim intimacy with him he had
become "Charles Rex.
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