He raised his voice: "Ferguson! I'd like a word with you if you please."
The sailing-master jumped at the sound of the voice as though it had shot a projectile into his back. However, he rose at once and came forward in his usual, brisk, stiff way, halting before the two men with a salute. Varney eyed him inscrutably.
"I believe you were in town for a while this morning, Ferguson?"
"Yes, sir, I was."
"While there did you chance to see anything of an elderly gentleman, a stranger here, by the name of Higginson?"
Though he had the look of being braced for trouble, the man changed color at the direct question, and his eyes instantly shifted. With an evident effort he recaptured something like his usual steadiness and spoke in a voice of elaborate thought fulness.
"Higginson? No, sir. I know no one of that name."
"Ah? I thought not. I asked on the mere chance. And oh, Ferguson."
"Sir?"
"I have just been down to look at the damaged machinery. Ignorant of these matters myself, I can naturally make little of it. You will prepare a written report for Mr. Carstairs, explaining in detail the nature of the accident, and in particular just how it took place."