The portmanteau had been taken up by one of the crew, and now Satan, evidently at the invitation of one of the white-clad figures leaning over the rail of the Dryad, was going up the accommodation ladder, leaving the boat to wash about in the blue water by the stage.
Ratcliffe guessed that one of the white-clad figures was Skelton and that it was on Skelton’s invitation he had gone on board. He felt vaguely uneasy. What did Skelton mean by that? Was he up to any dodge to “crab” the cruise?
However, he had no time to bother over this, for Jude, who had him now to herself without fear of interruption, had opened her batteries.
“Say,” said Jude, hanging over the rail where the awning cast its shadow, speaking without looking at him and spitting into the water, “what are you when you’re ashore, anyway?”
“I’m one of the idle rich,” said Ratcliffe, lighting his pipe.
“Well, you won’t be idle aboard here,” said Jude definitely. “What was your dad? Was your dad an idle rich?”
“No, he was a ship owner.”
“How many ships did he own?”
“About forty.”