A hundred things. The actor's wife had got Miss Hayle into funeral black from her own stage "warrobe," and the young man Marburg had brought up, for Madame Hayle, one of his deceased mother's mourning gowns, "a prodigious fine one." It did not fit but the actor's wife and her maid were altering it while they kept watch where Basile lay and while Madame Hayle resumed her cares on the lower deck. And who was caring for the commodore? Second clerk and mud clerk answered his few needs. But the captain----? Ah, that was another matter. The actor was with him. Mr. Gilmore; um-hmm. A step or so forward of the captain's room, as the senator moved toward the bell, two male figures seated on the edge of the skylight roof spoke his name in a mild greeting, and, looking closely, he found them to be Watson's cub and the Kentuckian whom the pair down on the boiler deck had just called "California." The senator expressed surprise that these two were not abed, where he himself ought to be but--sleeplessness had driven him up here for fresh air. "Well, here the fresh air is," said California. "Senator, we've just been wishing we could see you." "Ah!" said the senator, grateful yet wary. "I'll just take a turn or two up forward and be right back." "But--hold on, senator; just one question." The three stood. "Now, this first question ain't it; this is just the cut and deal. Hayle's twins have offered to fight Hugh Courteney--any way open to gentlemen, as they say--haven't they?" "Oh--night before last, I--believe so." "Ancient history, yes; but it's a standing invitation and they've called him names: poltroon, coward----" "Well, really, Mr. So-and-so, while we can't justify the names, nor the invitation, we can't wonder at the givers." "Why--I can. I think they're pretty tol'able wonderful. But so's he--to let 'em do it. Now, this ain't the question, either, but--why does he allow it? It ain't for lack of pluck, senator. I know a coward's earmarks and he ain't got 'em. It ain't for religion; less'n two hours out of Orleans he'd offered them twins, I'm told, to take 'em down to the freight deck and dish up the brace of 'em at one fell scoop. And no more is it because his people won't let him alone to do his own way. He's about the let-alone-dest fellow I ever see, for his age, if he is any particular age. No, sir, I've studied out what it's for." "Hmm. But what's your question? What's _it_ about?" "Why, it's about this--and your friend the general. For I'll tell you, senator, why Mr. Hugh don't fight. It's for--can I tell you in confidence, strict, air-tight?" "Certainly, strict, air-tight."