"But it takes a Stevenson to write it. It is very good of you, though.
Where is Miss Killigrew this morning?"

"She hasn't returned from her ride. Ah! Come in, Mr. Breitmann, and
sit down. By the way, you two must be fair horsemen."

Breitmann smiled, and Fitzgerald laughed.

"I dare say," replied the latter, "that there's only one thing we two
haven't ridden: ostriches. Camels and elephants and donkeys; we've
done some warm sprinting. Eh, Breitmann?"

The secretary agreed with a nod. He was rather grateful for
Fitzgerald's presence. This occupation was not going to be menial; at
the least, there would be pleasant sides to it. And, then, it might
not take him a week to complete his own affair. There was no
misreading the admiral; he was a gentleman, affable, kindly, and a good
story-teller, too, crisp and to the point, sailor fashion. Breitmann
cleverly drew him out. Pirates! He dared not smile. Why, there was
hardly such a thing in the pearl zone, and China was on the highway to
respectability. And every once in so often there was a futile treasure
hunt! He grew cold. If this old man but knew!

"Do you know butterflies, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

"Social?"

The admiral laughed. "No. The law doesn't permit you to stick pins in
that kind. No; I mean that kind," indicating the cases.