“That’s true,” declared Martin instantly. “And many landlubbers are drowned because they can’t step a mudpuddle. But they are not even derelicts. They’re just old bags. Of course,” he said, turning round, “you’re a derelict, Rio. But Mr. Roberts wasn’t thinking of you. I’m sure of that.”
Rio was watching Roberts with such dreadful intensity that when Martin finished, the adviser’s head snapped back like that of a toy.
Carol shifted about in his chair and stretched his legs. He felt the confused streams in the room, and it made him restless.
“That’s right,” said Rio, still watching Roberts intently. “He didn’t mean me. Once he made a mistake and I saved him from a derelict. Maybe the fellow let him go just so he could try it again some time. That thing you said about the mudpuddle is right, too, Martin. I’d think Mr. Roberts would be afraid. But he ain’t, Martin.”
Roberts did not hear all of this. He remembered those bitter eyes and hands too clearly.
Carol broke in.
“I wish I could talk like you talk,” he said, addressing Martin. “I think you have the most—well, the most exciting things to say.” His face was pink and moist.
Rio grinned wickedly.
“He’s an exciting man, Carol. That’s why he says exciting things,” he declared, emphasizing his words with a sly nod of approval.