"Come, courage!" said the Judge kindly, as he picked up his glass and wiped the lenses. "Don't be nervous, my boy. You don't know what she may have to say to you yet, you know!"
"No, I don't!" he groaned. "I—I think I ought to go down to the gangway and meet her," he added, tremulously,—not that he had any intention of doing so, but he wanted to be alone.
Before the Judge could even express his approbation of Peter's course, Tourmalin was down on the saloon-deck seeking a quiet spot wherein to collect his thoughts.
Before he could find the quiet spot, however, he almost ran into the arms of the matron from Melbourne, whom he had not seen since the episode of the music-room.
"A word with you, Mr. Tourmalin!" she said.
"I—I really can't stop now," stammered Peter. "I—I'm expecting friends!"
"I, too," she said, "am expecting a relation, and it is for that reason that I wish to speak to you now. My brother, who has been staying at Gibraltar on account of his health, will be as determined as I am to trace and punish the infamous calumny upon the name and career of our honoured parent."
"I daresay, madam," said Peter,—"I daresay. Very creditable to you both—but I really can't stop just now!"
"You appear to forget, sir, that, unless you can satisfactorily establish your innocence, my brother will certainly treat you as the person primarily responsible for an atrocious slander!"