"You have been in the engine-room for all that," said Mrs. Langdale, whose powers of observation were very keen. "Look at your skirt!" Charlie glanced at the garment in question. It was certainly the worse for wear. There were some curious patches in the front that had the appearance of oil stains. "That'll be all right!" he said cheerfully. "I had a fright and tumbled upstairs. Skirts are beastly awkward things to run away in, aren't they, Mrs. Langdale? Well, good-night all! I'm going to bed." He got up with the words, grinned at everyone collectively, picked up the injured skirt with exaggerated care, and stepped out of the saloon. Mrs. Langdale looked after him, half-laughing, yet with a touch of concern. "He looks queer," she remarked to Molly, who was standing by her. "Quite white and shaky. I believe something has happened to him. He has hurt himself in some way." But Molly was feeling peculiarly indignant at that moment, though not on account of her ruined skirt. "He's a silly poltroon!" she said with emphasis, and walked stiffly away. Charlie Cleveland had recovered from his serious fit even sooner than she had thought possible; and, though she had made it sufficiently clear to him that as a serious suitor he was utterly unwelcome, she was intensely angry with him for having so swiftly resumed his customary gay spirits. IV "Come! What happened last evening? We want to know," said Major Granville, in his slightly overbearing manner. "I saw you with the second engineer this morning, Fisher. I'm sure you have ferreted it out." "I am not at liberty to pass on my information," responded Fisher stolidly. "You wouldn't understand it if I did, Major. There was danger and there was steam. Two of the engineers had their arms scalded, and one of the stokers was badly hurt. I can't tell you any more than that." "Do you go so far as to say that the ship herself was in danger?" asked Major Granville. He was talking loudly, as was his wont, across the smoking saloon. "I should say so," said Fisher, without lifting his eyes from the magazine he was deliberately studying. "Where is young Cleveland this morning?" asked the Major abruptly. Fisher shrugged his shoulders. "He was in his bunk when I saw him last. Heaven knows what he may be up to by now." Charlie Cleveland strolled in at this juncture. He had his right arm in a sling. "Hullo!" he said. "How are you all? I'm on the sick-list to-day. I sprained my wrist when I fell up the steps yesterday." Fisher glanced at him for a moment over the top of his magazine and resumed his reading in silence. "Look here, my friend!" he said. "You were in the thick of this engine business. I am sure of it." "I was," said Charlie readily. "But for me you would all be at the bottom of the sea by this time." He threw himself into a chair with a broad grin at Major Granville's contemptuous countenance and took up a book.