"Yes," replied the Junior Watch-keeper, "the last night." He sniffed the mingled aroma of sawdust, tobacco-smoke, and the faint pungent smell of alcohol. "Good old pot-house! Good old Sawdust Club! Dear, dear, curried egg sandwiches! ... _And_ a drop of sherry white-wine ’what the orficers drinks’—yes, in a dock-glass, and may the Lord ha’ mercy on us!" * * * * * "And now," said the Young Doctor, "a ’chop-and-chips,’ I think." "A mixed-grill," substituted the other. "Kidney and sausage and tomato and all the rest of it. Oh yes, a ’mixed-grill.’" They entered swing-doors, past a massive Commissionaire, who saluted with a broad smile. "They’re askin’ for you inside, sir," he whispered jocularly to the Junior Watch-keeper. "Wonderin’ when you was comin’ along.... Sailin’ to-morrow, ain’t you, sir?" Together the "last-nighters" descended a flight of carpeted stairs and entered a subterranean, electric-lit lounge bar. A dozen or more of Naval men were standing about the fireplace and sitting in more or less graceful attitudes in big saddle-bag arm-chairs. The majority were conducting a lively badinage with a pretty, fair-haired girl who leaned over the bar at one end of the room. She smiled a greeting as the new-comers entered, and emerged from her retreat. The Junior Watch-keeper doffed his hat with a low bow and hung it on the stand. Then he bent down, swung her into his arms, and handed her like a doll to the Young Doctor, who in turn deposited her on the lap of a seated Officer reading the evening paper. "Look what I’ve found." With a squeal she twisted herself to her feet and retreated behind the bar again, her hands busy with the mysteries of hair-pins. "Hullo! hullo!" Greetings sounded on all sides. A tall broad-shouldered figure with a brown beard elbowed his way through the crush and smote the Junior Watch-keeper on the breast-bone. "Dear sakes! Where have you sprung from? I just come from the Persian Gulf, and it’s a treat to see a familiar face!" "We’re off to China again to-morrow," said the other, a half-suppressed note of exultation in his voice—"China-side again! Do you remember...?" The bearded one nodded wistfully. "Do I not! ... You lucky devils.... Oh, you lucky devils! Here, Molly——" * * * * * The waiter sought them presently with the time-honoured formula: "Your grill’s spoilin’, gentlemen, please," and they took their places in the mirror-walled grill-room, where the violins were whimpering some pizzicato melody. A girl with dark eyes set a shade obliquely in a pale face, seated at the grand piano, looked across as they entered and smiled a faint greeting to the Young Doctor. "I think we’re entitled to a voluntary from the pianist to-night," said the other presently, his mouth full of mixed-grill. "What shall we ask for?"