Captain Elisha took the offered chair and dropped his hat on the floor beside it. Then he inspected the room and its furnishings with interest. Dunn drew out a pocket case, extracted a cigarette, lit it, and waited for him to speak.
“Well,” observed the young man, after a moment, “what’s the trouble, Admiral? Better get it off your chest, hadn’t you? We’re private enough here.”
The captain answered the last question. “Yes,” he said, “this is nice and private. Got a stateroom all to yourself; name on the door, and everything complete. You must be one of the officers of the craft.”
“Yes.”
“Um-hm. I sort of expected to find your name on the door outside, but there ’twas, ‘Smith, Haynes & Co.’ I presume likely you’re the ‘Co.’”
“I ‘presume likely,’” with mocking impatience. “What about that private matter?”
Captain Elisha did not appear to hear him. His eyes were fixed on several photographs stuck in the rail of Mr. Dunn’s desk. The photos were those of young ladies.
“Friends of yours?” inquired the captain, nodding toward the photographs.
“No.” Dunn took the photos from the rack and threw them into a pigeon hole. “Look here,” he said, pointedly, “I wouldn’t hurry you for the world, but—”
He paused. Captain Elisha did not take the hint. His mind was evidently still busy with the vanished photographs.