Ringham nodded and clumped back to his bunk, doubtless relieved at not being required to surrender more of his time off-watch. But the girl stood her ground, her eyes accusing all of us.
"Well, Marjory," said Murray pleasantly, "and do you plan to join in our debate?"
That was the first time I heard her name, and—why, I can not say—I heard it without surprise, as if I had always known it to be hers. It suited her, as names sometimes express the character and appearance of their possessors.
"What hath happened?" she asked in the same words the second mate had used.
"You have heard," said Murray.
She shook her head.
"That is not all. This—" she hesitated—"gentleman's clothes are wet. Tom does not attack people without orders."
Murray shrugged his shoulders. De Veulle answered her, leaning across the table, his eyes burning with hatred for me.
"You know what this man hath done, mademoiselle," he cried. "You know his record in the past. You know that he comes with us to spy out our plans, to thwart, if may be, what we undertake to do. Is any fate too hard for him? Why should you concern yourself?"
His voice grew coaxing.