He wrote on, and folded, the paper.
“Take this to Hartington. When he’s finished with you, report down here again. I’ll wait.”
John climbed the steel-runged ladder and, passing through the great heat above the cylinders, scrambled on to the grating which the windows of the Engineers’ Office overlooked. In the Chest Flat he found Driss beginning to undress before turning in.
“Do you know where Hartington is?”
“In his cabin, I think. Aggett’s below, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He has just bowled me out writing verse on watch. Sent me up with this chit for Hartington.”
“To be beaten?”
“I suppose so. Good-night.”
“Good-night.... I say, Lynwood, it’s rotten luck. Come to my hammock before you go below again and tell me what happens. Will you?”