"Why, Mother, you're not going to coddle me at my age," he said. "You ought to be in bed. Off you go: I shall be all right in the morning. I shall have something to tell you then. Breakfast at eight sharp, by the way; or I shan't get to Portsmouth in time."
"Very well, my dear. Simmons is up, keeping some food warm for you. I will tell him. Goodnight."
"I've such loads to tell you," said Smith, when she had gone; "but I'm afraid it must wait. By the way, Kate, I suppose nothing of importance has come for me?"
"A few letters, mostly from the people you disappointed, I suspect. I'll fetch them."
When she returned, Smith immediately noticed a long official envelope in the bundle. He tore it open.
"Great Scott!" he cried. "An order to rejoin on Wednesday without fail. That's a nasty whack."
"Any explanation?" asked Barracombe.
"Not a word. Some sudden whimsy of the admiral's, I suppose. Have you got yesterday's paper, Kate?"
"I remember now," cried Kate. "How silly of me to forget it! The Implacable broke down, and your ship was ordered to replace her."
"Just my luck!" exclaimed Smith gloomily. "Last time I was late the ship was going shooting. Now I shall miss her altogether when she's at manœuvres. Captain Bolitho will put me down as a hopeless rotter."