“Because, Stukeley, I may have to see the Governor about you. I may be asked about you when you land. I may even have to hand you over to--well, disgrace.” “Rot. How the hell will the Governor know? Don’t talk nonsense.” “Then it _was_ forgery?” “Certainly no damn maggot like you’ll call it anything. No man alive.” “But supposing they try you, my friend. Eh? Suppose, when we land, when we anchor, you are taken and sent home. What would a jury call it?” “We’re not in Falmouth harbour now. Nor in Salcombe.” Just at this moment Captain Cammock entered, whistling a tune through his teeth. He glanced at both men, with some suspicion of their occupation. “Come for the deep-sea lead-line,” he explained. “We’ll be in soundings by to-night. Getting on nice, ain’t we?” He opened one of the lockers and took out the lead-line. “You’d ought to come on deck, sir, to-night, to see how this is done. It’s a queer sight,” he said. “I’m off to the cook now, to get a bit of tallow for the arming.” “Stop just a moment, captain,” said Margaret. “I want to ask you something. How often do letters go to Virginia, from London?” “I suppose about twice a week, now there’s no war. Almost every day, in the summer, you might say. Yes. They’re always going.” “Have we made a good passage?” “Nothing extra. It’s been done in five weeks by the baccalao schooners. Less.” “The baccalao schooners. They’re the cod-boats? Are they very fast?” “Oh, beauties. But ain’t they wet.” “Then we might find letters waiting when we arrive?” “Very likely, sir. I was going to speak to you about that.” He looked with meaning at Stukeley. “What are you looking at me like that for?” said Stukeley. “You might have letters waiting, too,” said Cammock. “Society invitations and that.” He glanced up at the skylight as he spoke, and then watched Stukeley’s face to note the effect of his words. Stukeley turned pale. “Stukeley,” said Margaret, “don’t you think you ought to tell your wife?” “Will you please mind your own business, Maggy. She’s my wife, not yours.” “Then I shall tell her. Shall I?” “Tell her what?” “I’m going on deck,” said Cammock. “You come on deck, sir, too.” He passed out of the cabin, carrying his heavy lead. He paused at the door for a moment to ask his friend again. “Come and see how it’s done, sir,” he said. He got no instant answer, so he passed out, wondering how it would end. “It’s none of my job,” he said sadly. “But I’d give a deal just to hit him once. Once. He’d have a thick ear to show.” “Tell her what?” repeated Stukeley, as the door closed. “That you may be arrested as soon as we arrive. That the case may go against you.” “You would tell her, would you?” “She ought to know. Surely you can see that. Shall I tell her?” “You?” “Yes.” “You’ve go---- You lowsy. You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” “I should very much like to, Stukeley.”