Reg had been lounging on his bunk, deep in his own thoughts, when he was disturbed by the abrupt entrance of his fellow-passenger, and the above good-humoured demand. Reg got up from his bunk, and faced him without speaking.
"You've shared my cabin since we left Naples, three days ago. Not a word have you spoken. You have done nothing but mope about, and look as miserable as a boiled owl. I say again, I won't have it, for you are infecting me with your low spirits," said Winter.
Reg looked at him with curiosity, but still answered nothing, so that Winter began to show signs of annoyance.
"Hang it all! can't you speak, man? I can box, shoot, fence, fight, or anything you like. I don't think I am a bad sort of fellow myself, and it's because I know you are a good sort that I feel so annoyed to see you moping."
"I am much obliged to you for the compliment; still I fancy I can do what I please," said Reg, quietly.
The other showed no signs of resentment, but continued smiling at him as he rattled off the following, "You are in trouble, I know. You have had a severe blow lately. There was a woman in it, and she's dead. You loved that woman; her name was Amy, and the man who came between you was a certain Wyck. You are an Australian, and have plenty of money. You are seeking revenge, and your instrument of vengeance is in your breast pocket. These are details I have gathered from what I have seen of you, or what I have heard you mutter in your sleep; and knowing this much I am curious to know more."
"You are quite an up-to-date detective, sir," said Reg, frankly.
"Ah! then you acknowledge that I have hit the mark."
"But pray, sir, are there not enough people on board to amuse you without the need of exercising your powers on me. I am in trouble, I acknowledge, but I prefer keeping my troubles to myself," answered Reg, really angry this time.
"I apologise, Morris, if I have been abrupt, but really I did not mean to be so. It is strange that though there are over two hundred passengers on board, I have not seen a face I care about but yours, and when I see you fretting away I feel for you, for I have gone through the mill, and know what it is."