"I know he's fearfully gone on her," said James, "but he lost a foot early in the war. He hasn't been near her since." "Why not?" asked the Scientist vaguely. "Oh, because--because he's fearfully sensitive about it. And he's frightfully in love with her. You see, a thing like that tells enormously when a fellow's in love." "Does it?" enquired Sir William. "Well, granted that your theory is correct, I fail to see what I am to do. I can't kidnap this young man and carry him to my house like the alien visitor you once brought to disturb my peaceful slumbers." "Ah," said James, "Crabpots!" He chuckled retrospectively. "If he has really developed a neurotic view of his injury, as you imply," continued the older man, "it's no use my inviting him, because he would only refuse to come." "You'll have to work it somehow," replied his nephew. "Sea voyages aren't safe enough just now--we'd never forgive ourselves if we let Cecily go and anything happened to her--or Podgie either," he added grimly. By twos and threes the members of the Mess had risen from the table and drifted into the ante-room to play bridge, or to their cabins, there to write letters, read, or occupy themselves in wood-carving and kindred pursuits. At a small table in the comer of the long Mess the officers of the Second Dog Watch had finished a belated meal, and were yarning in low voices over their port. James and his uncle alone remained seated at the long table. "Well," said the former, "let's move on, Uncle Bill. Would you like a rubber of bridge?" "I can play bridge in London," replied his guest, rising. "No, Jim, I think I'd like to take this opportunity of paying a visit to the Gunroom. When you are my age you'll find a peculiar fascination about youth and its affairs. Do you think they'd object to my intrusion?" "They'd be awfully bucked," said James. "Come along." As they passed out of the door they met the Marine postman entering with his arms full of letters and papers. "Hullo," he continued, "here's the mail--you'll see a Gunroom devouring its letters: rather like a visit to the Zoo about feeding-time!" They came to the door of the Gunroom, and James, opening it, motioned his guest to enter. One end of the table resembled a bee swarm: a babel of voices sounded as those nearest the pile of letters shouted the names of the addressees and tossed the missives back over their heads. The two men stood smiling and unobserved in the doorway until the distribution was complete. Then they were seen, and the Sub advanced to extend the hospitality of his realm. "Kedgeree," said James, "this is my uncle. He's getting bored with the Wardroom and I've brought him along here." The Sub laughingly shook hands, and the inmates in his immediate vicinity gathered round with the polite air of a community of whom something startling was expected.