"Can I go in?" said Saltash, growing impatient.
The woman looked at him with wonder and compassion in her eyes. "The poor little thing is very upset," she said. "She lies and trembles, and has hardly spoken at all except to ask for you."
"Well, let me in!" said Saltash, suddenly imperious. "I've got something to tell her."
He had his way, for there was something about him that compelled just then. He entered the cabin as a king might enter the apartment of a slave, and he shut the door with decision upon those without.
Then for a second—just for a second—he hesitated. "Toby!" he said.
A meagre form sprang upright in the bunk at the sound of his voice. Two bare, skinny arms reached out to him. Then with a single stride Saltash was beside the bunk and was holding tightly to him a small, whimpering creature that hid its face very deeply against his breast and clutched at him piteously whenever he sought to raise it.
Saltash bent his dark head over the fair one and spoke very gently, yet
with authority. "It's all right, child. I know. I've known all along!
Don't fret yourself! There's no need. I've got you under my protection.
You're safe."
"You—know!" whispered the muffled voice—Toby's voice, but strangely devoid of Toby's confidence. "What must you—think?"
"I!" Saltash laughed a little. "I never think. I give everyone—always—the benefit of the doubt; which is considerably more than anyone ever gives me."
"And—you saved my life!" gasped Toby "Why did you? Why did you?"