“Didn’t think it? Why, of course we did, sir. Didn’t I come to an anchor as soon as I found you were not aboard?”
“I don’t know,” said Lynton, looking from one to the other.
“Then you know now, sir. Pretending to me that you were going to a dinner—eating.”
“So I was,” cried the mate.
“Not you, sir. Going somewhere drinking.”
“That I wasn’t. Mr Franklyn Briscoe came and asked me to go and have a bit of dinner with him.”
“What! that American?” cried the captain.
“Yes.”
“Then that makes worse of it.”
“There, I don’t know: bad or worse,” said the mate. “All I know is that I went to sleep after dinner, and when I woke up he was gone and I couldn’t find my hat.”