“All right.”
“I’m going down to have a cigarette,” Hartington said when John reached him. “Let me know if there’s a panic.”
For an uneventful hour John walked up and down at the top of the gangway. A hand touched his arm, and he turned to find Hugh beside him.
“John, what do you think has happened?”
“What? Something to do with Hartington?”
“Hartington has been reading some of your stuff.”
“Lord Almighty! How did he get hold of it?”
“Found it on the deck in the Gunroom. He picked it up to see what it was. Then he asked if it was private. Cunwell said No, you often let people read it.”
“Some of it,” said John, “and some people.”
“I know. But we couldn’t do anything. Hartington smiled, and said that, seeing it wasn’t letters and was sculling about the deck of his Gunroom, he thought he had a right. We couldn’t do anything,” Hugh repeated. “But I thought I’d better come and tell you.”