"Anthony! Do you hear, Anthony? Oh, do you hear me?"
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I hear." Like a dull-witted bear he pawed at the latch of his door. "What is it?"
"They are on deck," she said. "I am locked in my cabin. I have been calling you, but you would not waken."
"Who is on deck?" The door would not give, and he wrenched at it savagely. "Who locked you in?"
"Tarrant. And Blake. They came aboard in the night. They have taken charge of the ship."
Anthony's wits came to an edge; he stopped wrenching at the door, and stood, calling its possibilities to mind.
"What of Captain Weir?" he said. "Where is he?"
"I do not know," said mademoiselle.
Anthony fixed upon the spot where the door had been fastened, and laid his weight against it. The nails started, and the ironmongery gave way. Then he released mademoiselle, and she was trembling.
"I was afraid," she said. "You slept so, you seemed very far away. I was afraid."