“Oh, shush, silly, as if I would tell! No one is to know. Just you and me—and Red Ryan. Why Ryan, Davie?”
“He guessed it, the darned fox. Nothing I said. He just picked it out of the air. His Irish shrewdness, I suppose. Anyway, he asked me point-blank.”
“You like him, don’t you, David?”
“I’ll say I do!” said David warmly. “He may be rough on the outside, but he’s nobody’s fool, and smart as a whip, and as loyal as they make ’em. By the way, where is Cram all this time?”
Dulcie chuckled. “Poor Wally! He’s in his stateroom, a very sick man.”
“Honestly?” demanded David.
“No, just all in.” She leaned close and whispered, “Scared to death, Dr. Forsythe told daddy. I heard him, and daddy shooed me away. So don’t breathe it. And see what he says when he comes out.”
“You never turned a hair, did you?” admiringly.
Dulcie shrugged. “Why should I? I have no mother, and daddy was here, so what was the difference?”
“What about your other friends?” asked David, with a wide blank gaze.