When Vane opened his eyes on reality again, he found himself in a strange room. For a few moments he lay very still, groping back into a half-world of grey shadows. He remembered the first torpedo, and then the second one; but after that things seemed confused. A man opened the door, and came over to his bed.
"Feeling better?" he remarked with a smile.
"As far as I can make out at the moment," said Vane, "I'm feeling perfectly well. Where am I, and what happened? . . ."
"You're in a private hospital not far from Liverpool," answered the man. "You were very nearly drowned in the 'Connaught,' and you've had a nasty knock on the head as well. . . . Feel at all muzzy now?"
"Not a bit," said Vane, raising himself on his elbow. "I hope they caught the swine."
"There was a rumour three or four days ago that they had."
Vane stared at the speaker. "What did you say?" he remarked at length.
"There was a rumour three or four days ago that the submarine was sunk," repeated the other.
"May I ask how long I've been here?"
"Ten days," answered the doctor. "But I wired to your depot that you were safe, so you needn't worry."