“It was very much in your favour,” she answered, leaning across towards him. “I think that you knew it would be.”
“I hoped at least——”
Mr. Sabin broke off suddenly in the midst of his sentence, and turning round looked out of the open port-hole. Mrs. Watson had dropped her knife and fork and was holding her hands to her ears. The saloon itself seemed to be shaken by the booming of a gun fired at close quarters.
“What is it?” she exclaimed, looking across at him with frightened eyes. “What can have happened! England is not at war with anybody, is she?”
Mr. Sabin looked up with a quiet smile from the salad which he was mixing.
“It is simply a signal from another ship,” he answered. “She wants us to stop.”
“What ship? Do you know anything about it? Do you know what they want?”
“Not exactly,” Mr. Sabin said. “At the same time I have some idea. The ship who fired that signal is a German man-of-war, and you see we are stopping.”
Of the two Mrs. Watson was certainly the most nervous. Her fingers shook so that the wine in her glass was spilt. She set her glass down and looked across at her companion.
“They will take you away,” she murmured.