Toby went like an arrow, and Saltash spent the next half-hour pacing the deck, cursing himself, the youngster, and the insane and ridiculous Fate that had linked them together. Then he went below to administer judicial corporal punishment to a human being for the first time in his life. As he himself whimsically expressed it, he had received ample correction during his own chequered career; but he had never been in a position to correct anyone else. He found Toby waiting for him in his shirt-sleeves, rather white but quite composed, his riding-switch all ready to his hand. "Ever been flogged before?" he asked him curtly as he picked it up. "No, sir," said Toby, with downcast eyes. "Why not?" There was a gibing note in Saltash's voice. "Never qualified before?" Toby shot him a swift and nervous glance that was like a flash of blue flame. "No, sir. Never been caught before," he said. Saltash's eyes flickered humour, but he steeled himself. "Well, you're caught this time--fairly caught. I may not be a specially fit person to punish you for it, but you won't be let off on that account." "Go ahead, sir!" said Toby, with his hands twisted into a bony knot in front of him. And Saltash went ahead. His heart was not in the business, and as he smote the narrow bent back it cried shame on him. Toby made no sound, but at the third stroke he winced, and Saltash with a terrific oath in French hurled his switch violently at the opposite wall. "There! Don't do it again!" he said, and swung him round to face him. "Sorry? What?" Then he saw that Toby was crying, and abruptly let him go, striding out through the dining-saloon and up the companion-way, swearing strange oaths in varied languages as he went. He was openly rude to Larpent when the latter sauntered up for a word with him a little later, but Larpent, knowing him, merely hunched his shoulders as his custom was and sauntered away again. When Saltash went down to dress for dinner, he found his clothes laid out as usual, but no Toby in attendance. His first impulse was to look for him, but he checked it and dressed in solitude. This thing must be conducted in the approved judicial manner at all costs. Larpent was stolidly awaiting him in the saloon, and they sat down together. Usually Toby stood behind his master's chair, and the vacant place oppressed Saltash. He talked jerkily, with uneasy intervals of silence. Larpent talked not at all beyond the demands of ordinary courtesy. He ate well, drank sparingly, and when not listening to Saltash's somewhat spasmodic conversation appeared immersed in thought. When the meal was over, he refused coffee, and rose to go on deck. Then, abruptly, Saltash stayed him. "Larpent, wait a minute--unless you're in a hurry! Have a cigar with me!" Larpent paused, looking across at the dark, restless face with the air of a man making a minute calculation. "Shall we smoke on deck, my lord?" he said at length.