He returned with his pipe at that moment, and we were about to proceed on deck when he stopped and said to his sister-in-law, ‘Come along, Laura, my love.’ ‘I have a slight headache, Wilfrid, and I have to see that my cabin is prepared.’ I thought this answer would start him into questioning her, but he looked as if he did not gather the meaning of it. ‘Pooh, pooh!’ he cried, ‘there are two stewards and a maid to see to your cabin for you. If they don’t suffice we’ll have Muffin aft; that arthritic son of a greengrocer, whose genius as a valet will scarcely be the worse for the tar that stains his hands. Muffin for one night only!’ He delivered one of his short roars of laughter and slapped his leg. By Jupiter! thought I, Lady Monson will hear that and take it as an expression of his delight at her presence on board! Does she know, I wondered, that her colonel lies dead? But I had found no opportunity of inquiring. ‘Come along, Laura,’ continued Wilfrid; ‘I’ll roll you up as pretty a cigarette as was ever smoked by a South American belle.’ She shook her head, forcing a smile. ‘Perhaps Miss Jennings will join us later,’ said I, distrustful of his temper, and passing my hand through his arm, I got him on deck. ‘Laura is a sweet little woman,’ said he, pausing just outside the hatch to hammer at a tinder-box. ‘Ay, sweet, pretty, and good,’ said I. ‘You’re in love with her, I think, Charles.’ ‘My dear Wilf, let us talk of this beautiful night,’ I exclaimed. ‘Why of a beautiful night in preference to a beautiful woman?’ cried he. But I was determined to end this, so I called to a figure standing to leeward of the main boom, ‘Is that you, Finn?’ ‘No, it’s me,’ answered Crimp’s surly note; ‘the capt’n’s a-laying down, but he’s guv orders to be aroused at four bells.’ ‘Why?’ inquired Wilfrid. Crimp probably supposed the question put to me, for which I was thankful. ‘He may mistrust the weather, perhaps,’ I answered softly, that old Jacob might not hear. ‘Yet the sky has a wonderfully settled look too. Let’s go right aft, shall we, Wilf? The downdraught here is emptying my pipe.’