"Perhaps," he said, "you will explain what you mean by this conduct?"
"What need to ask?" I replied. "Let your conscience answer."
"It is an outrage," he said, after a pause. "If you continue to annoy me, I shall appeal to the captain."
"Do so," I said, "and prepare to meet at once the charge I shall bring against you."
He did not dare to inquire the nature of the charge. He did not dare to move or speak again. Sullenly, and with an inward raging, the traces of which he could not disguise, he remained by the bulwarks, staring down at the water.
Suddenly there was a lull aboard. The machinery stopped working.
"Some accident," said Devlin, and went to ascertain its nature. Returning, he said, "We shall be delayed a couple of hours, most likely. It will be dark night, when we arrive."
It was as he said. For two hours or more we made no progress; then, the necessary repairs having been made, we started again. By that time it was evening. And still Mr. Dowsett neither moved or spoke.
Night crept on; there was no moon, and not a star visible in the dark sky; it was black night. Mr. Dowsett strove to take advantage of this to evade and escape from us, but we kept so close to him that we could have touched him by the movement of a finger; where he glided, we glided; and still he uttered not a word.
We stood in a group alone, isolated as it were, from the other passengers. After repeated attempts to slip from us, Mr. Dowsett remained still again. In the midst of the darkness Devlin's voice stole upon our ears.