“I’ll ask her,” promised the Saint. “It’ll be easy—these motor-ships are dead simple to run, and Orace has as much expert knowledge as we need. America’s a big place, anyway. We can’t miss it altogether, and as soon as we strike the coast we’ll be able to find out where we are, and probably get a navigator. We’ll only be able to run in daylight, of course, so it won’t be a quick passage—but I can think of worse honeymoons!”
One of the motor-boats had already been sent back in search of the crew which the Tiger had allowed to go, and Algy and the three prisoners were taken down into the other boat, and the armed men who had swarmed all over the ship returned to their own little craft.
Carn was the last to go.
“Good-bye, Saint, and a good voyage,” he said.
“May you fill many prisons in the course of a prosperous career,” returned the Saint piously.
It has already been recorded that Orace was in the habit of calling his master every morning with a cup of tea, and commenting on the beauty of the weather.
On a certain morning Orace came up a companion with a cup of tea in each hand. He paused outside a door, and put the cups down so that he could knock. But he did not knock. Instead, he scratched his chin and argued within himself long and earnestly. Then he picked up the cups again and went back to the galley and drank them himself.
Only one thing could upset Orace’s ingrained sense of discipline, and that was his ingrained sense of the proprieties.
the end