Perhaps for ten minutes, perhaps for an hour or more, he had sat thus, thinking with desperate rapidity, when he looked up to find Hugh, bare-footed, and clothed in torn pyjamas, standing at the Casemate door. “I saw you from my hammock,” Hugh said. “You look pretty miserable, sitting there.” “I’ve been running the picket-boat,” John answered, as if this were sufficient explanation. “You were at the dance, weren’t you?” “Yes. I had to go because my people were going. A flagship dance is no place for a snotty--too much gold lace and aiglettes.” “I took your people ashore.” “I know. I saw them go down into the _Pathshire’s_ boat.” “Did you notice anything?” “Notice anything?” “About Margaret?” “No. What of her?” “Merely that she looked straight at me, saw me, and wouldn’t recognize me.” John laughed shortly. “I wonder what crime I’ve committed.” “I think she was excited to-night. Sometimes when I spoke to her she answered me in that vague way of hers, as if her thoughts were far away. Do you remember how strange she was that Sunday after our dance in town? It was the same thing to-night.” “Ordith?” “Perhaps. She danced with him. I remember, as they passed me, I heard her laugh--higher pitched than usual.” And Hugh added, with a touch of embarrassment: “Almost as if she was afraid.” John paused to consider. He saw her in Ordith’s arms, moving to the music, her head thrown back a little, laughing. Then, with directness that surprised himself, he asked suddenly the question he had long desired and never dared to ask: “Hugh, do you think she is in love with Ordith?” “He is with her.” “I know. That wasn’t my question, though. You know why I ask it.” “She has never said a word to me about it.” “She’s not likely to.... But what is your opinion, based on what you’ve seen and heard?” “My dear old fellow, how should I know? It does no good to make yourself wretched.” “But you think there’s cause?” “Well, there’s a kind of glamour about Ordith, you know. And Margaret is very young as yet. I don’t suppose her mind is made up in any way.” John rose and shivered. “We had better turn in,” he said. “The half-deck sentry thinks we are mad. I saw him look round the edge of the curtain just now.” CHAPTER XV TRAFALGAR AND THE RED LAMP