"It's a nasty cut," said Wyllard. "He's losing a good deal of blood."
"Then I would suggest that you apply to my assistant."
"As I don't know where he is, I have come to you."
The doctor made a sign of impatience. "Well," he said, "you have told me, which I think is as far as your concern in the matter goes. I may add that I'm not accustomed to dictation on behalf of a steerage passenger."
Agatha saw Wyllard quietly slip between him and the entrance to the saloon, but she also saw, as neither of the others apparently did, the skipper appear a few paces behind them, and glance at them sharply. He was usually a silent man, at home in the ice and the clammy fog, but not a great acquisition in the saloon.
"Something wrong down forward, Mr. Wyllard? They were making a great row a little while ago," he said.
"Nothing very serious," said Wyllard. "One of the boys, however, has cut his head."
The skipper turned towards the doctor quietly; but Agatha fancied he had overheard part of the conversation.
"Don't you think you had better go—at once?" he said.
The doctor evidently did, for he disappeared, and Wyllard, who entered the saloon with the skipper, sat down at Agatha's side.