“Don’t ask me, Halstead.”
“Right! I guess I won’t,” Tom rejoined, thoughtfully. “You’re so utterly upset that I guess I can furnish better instructions myself.”
“Oh, yes, please,” begged the other, helplessly. “And leave me alone, Halstead, or else keep quiet.”
“But I’ve got to ask some questions, sir, and you’ll have to answer them,” Tom went on. “So, sir, it seems to me that you will do best to come on deck, into the open air.”
“Do you—you—really think so?” faltered the stricken one.
“It will be much better for you to be in the air, Mr. Moddridge.”
“I’d go if I could, but I feel that I simply haven’t the strength to get there,” mumbled the nervous man.
“I’ll show you how,” responded Captain Tom, briskly, almost cheerily. “Steady, now, sir. There; it’s as easy as can be.”
Tom Halstead lifted the little man bodily out of the berth, getting a good hold on him and carrying him out to the after deck, where he deposited the collapsed burden in one of the wicker arm-chairs.