Pagett always knows everything. I was justifiably annoyed.
“Who is Race?” I demanded, exasperated.
As I said before, Pagett always knows everything—or thinks he does. He looked mysterious again.
“They say he’s a Secret Service chap, Sir Eustace. Rather a great gun too. But of course I don’t know for certain.”
“Isn’t that like the Government?” I exclaimed. “Here’s a man on board whose business it is to carry about secret documents, and they go giving them to a peaceful outsider, who only asks to be let alone.”
Pagett looked even more mysterious. He came a pace nearer and dropped his voice.
“If you ask me, the whole thing is very queer, Sir Eustace. Look at that illness of mine before we started——”
“My dear fellow,” I interrupted brutally, “that was a bilious attack. You’re always having bilious attacks.”
Pagett winced slightly.
“It wasn’t the usual sort of bilious attack. This time——