“And he didn’t say anything about the yacht?”
“Not a thing.”
I informed him of the evening’s happenings, and of the Wanderer’s disappearance. At that he gasped, and a look of comprehension came slowly into his eyes.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, so that’s it, eh?”
“What’s it?” I demanded.
He glanced at Betty, dropped his eyes to the floor, and looked at me significantly.
“Nothing at all,” he said. “Aren’t you starving, Pitt? You look it. As a physician I suggest you get some nourishment into your system at once, before you begin to suffer.”
The unexpected quickness of wit on his part took me slightly aback, but I responded promptly.
“I’m fairly famished,” I agreed, grasping at the remnants of food on the table. “You’re right, doctor; I must eat at once.”
It worked excellently. Betty, instantly solicitous, flew about to prepare a meal for me, and under the pretense of gathering fire-wood Dr. Olson beckoned me outside.