"I do."

"Very well, then. I offer you the position of second mate on my yacht,
the _Aphrodite_. She is a sailing vessel, with auxiliary steam, a
seaworthy craft, of two hundred and eighty tons. I pay well, but I ask
good service. The salary is L20 per month, all found. The captain, two
officers, and fourteen men receive ten per cent of the gross profits of
a certain undertaking--the gross profits, remember--divided in
proportion to their wages. If successful, your share, small though it
sounds, will be large enough to make you a comparatively rich man. Do
you accept, yes?"

Dick Royson felt his heart thumping against his ribs. "Why, of course,
I accept," he cried. "But your terms are so generous, to a man without
a profession, that I must ask you one thing? Is the affair such as an
honest man can take part in?"

"It is. No one can cavil at its honesty. Yet we may encounter
difficulties. There may be fighting, not against a government, but to
defend our--our gains--from those who would rob us."

"I'm with you, heart and soul," cried Royson, stirred out of his
enforced calmness. "Indeed, I am exceedingly obliged to you. I am at a
loss to account for my amazing good luck."

The Baron snapped his fingers with a fine air. "Good luck!" he
exclaimed. "There is no such thing. A man with intelligence and nerve
grasps the opportunity when it presents itself. You took it this
morning. You may say that you might not have been given the chance.