"I say!" The subdued mutter took on a note of anxiety. "It's all right, isn't it? I mean, you aren't going to kick up a rumpus and spill the beans? I guess you must think I've got a hell of a gall, coming in on you like this, and I don't know as I blame you, but... Well, time's getting short, only two more days at sea, and I couldn't wait any longer for a chance to have a few minutes' chin with you."
The mutter ceased and held an expectant pause. Lanyard said nothing. But he was conscious that the speaker occupied a chair by the bed, and knew that he was bending near to catch his answer; for the air was tainted with vinous breath. Yes: one required no stronger identification, it was beyond any doubt the chief engineer of the Sybarite.
"Say it's all right, won't you?" the mutter pleaded.
"I am listening," Lanyard replied--"as you perceive."
"I'll say it's decent of you--damned decent. Blowed if I'd take it as calm as you, if I waked up to find somebody in my room."
"I believe," said Lanyard pointedly, "you stipulated for a few minutes' chin with me. Time passes, Mr. Mussey. Get to your business, or let me go to sleep again."
"Sharp, you are," commented the mutter. "I've noticed it in you. You'd be surprised if you knew how much notice I've been taking of you."
"And flattered, I'm sure."
"Look here..." The mutter stumbled. "I want to ask a personal question. Daresay you'll think it impertinent."
"If I do, be sure I shan't answer it."