"That queer specimen?" rejoined the Third Officer. "No, I haven't, beyond the fact that she's a Mrs. Shallop, and her husband, that red-faced man, is a horse-dealer, who made a pile in the war by stopping at home and selling broken-down hacks to Government inspectors who hardly knew the bow of a gee-gee from the stern. Yes, we're going to have some fun out of Mrs. Shallop before long, old son. She's had a row with the purser, two with the chief stewardess, and a few with the stewards thrown in as make-weights." "What about?' asked Mostyn. "Goodness knows," replied Anstey. "The purser was talking to the Old Man about it after breakfast. She's rather got on the poor chap's nerves. Apparently she's an imaginary grievance that they don't treat her like a 'lydy', so she's been ramming it down their throats that she's a naval officer's daughter--a captain's daughter." "Well, isn't she?" asked Peter. The Third Officer sniffed scornfully. Evidently Mrs. Shallop had fallen foul of him already. "Naval captain's daughter!" he exclaimed. "Might be. Sub-lieutenants become captains, or at least some of them do; and subs have been known to do rash acts when they are young. But when a woman, whose accent, manners, and grammar are decidedly rocky, goes out of her way to assert that she's a naval officer's daughter, well then, snap goes the last thread of your credulity. My dear old thing, we're going to have some fun this trip, so get busy." "Who is the girl--the girl who was almost the last on board?" asked Mostyn, broaching the long-deferred question at last. "Has she no friends on the ship?" "Goodness only knows!" ejaculated the Third Officer fervently. "She's a Miss Baird, and I think she's by herself. We'll find out in due course. Hark! Yes, at it again! It's poor old Selwyn getting it this time." Through a partly open skylight came the now familiar voice of Mrs. Shallop, almost ear-piercing in its intensity and raucous in its tone. Mingled with the strident outbursts of the woman came short, incompleted protests from the doctor, who apparently was not able to hold his own. "At it again," reiterated Anstey. "She's trying the naval captain stunt on the doc. I guess--by Jove! Wait till she tackles the Old Man." Just then Dr. Selwyn appeared on the boat-deck. He was a dapper little man with the reputation of being a skilful and rapid surgeon. He could have commanded a large practice in town, but, preferring the country to city life, was content with a moderate income and plenty of hard work in congenial surroundings. In manner he was affable, and possessed an old-world courtesy that made him extremely popular. He was mild in speech, and rarely lost his temper; but when he came on deck it was obvious to both Peter and Anstey that he was labouring under suppressed anger. "Morning, Doc," was the Third Officer's greeting. "Up for a breather?"