Carroll was not astonished. The news, which implied that he must be prepared to face a more or less serious financial reverse struck him as a fitting climax to his misadventures. "It's pretty much what I expected, and I'm going to sleep," he said. "I don't want to be wakened before it's necessary." He crawled below, and he had hardly stretched himself out upon the locker before his eyes closed. When he opened them, feeling more like his usual self, he saw that the sun was above the horizon, and recognised by the boat's motion that the wind had fallen. Going out, he found her driving through the water under her whole mainsail and the helmsman sitting stolidly at the tiller. The man stretched out a hand and pointed to the hazy hills to port. "We'll fetch the Narrows some time before noon," he said. "If you'll take the helm, I guess we'll halve that meat for breakfast." His prediction proved correct, for Carroll reached his hotel about midday, and hastily changing his clothes, set off to call on Nairn. He had not recovered his mental equipoise, and in spite of his long, sound sleep, he was still badly jaded physically. On arriving at the house, he was shown into a room where Mrs. Nairn and her husband were sitting with Evelyn, waiting for the midday meal. The elder lady rose with a start of astonishment when he walked in. "Man," she said, "what's wrong? Ye're looking like a ghost." It was not an inapt description. Carroll's face was worn and haggard, and his clothes hung slack on him. "I've been feeling rather unsubstantial of late, as the result of a restricted diet," he answered with a smile, and sat down in the nearest chair, while Nairn regarded him with carefully suppressed curiosity. "Ye're ower lang in coming," he remarked. "Where did ye leave your partner?" Carroll sat silent a moment or two, his eyes fixed on Evelyn. It was evident that his sudden appearance unaccompanied by Vane, which he felt had been undesirably dramatic, had alarmed her. At first he felt compassionate, and then he was suddenly possessed by hot indignation. This girl, with her narrow prudish notions and cold-blooded nature, had presumed to condemn his comrade, unheard, for an imaginary offence. The thing was at once ludicrous and intolerable; if his news brought her dismay, let her suffer. His nerves, it must be remembered, were not in their normal condition. "Yes," he said, in answer to his host's first remark; "I've gathered that we have failed to save the situation. But I don't know exactly what has happened; you had better tell me." Mrs. Nairn made a sign of protest, but her husband glanced at her restrainingly.