“Indeed, you’re coming too,” said Jim. “You saw the light as well as we did.”
“And messed up the show, without any assistance,” Wally added, sadly.
“Don’t be an old stupid,” said Norah. “If this show is a show at all, it isn’t a matter of one night only. We’ll get him, if he’s there to be got.”
“Of course we shall,” Jim said. “Well, we might as well go and hunt up the captain.”
“Wait until eleven o’clock,” counselled his father. “Most of the passengers are pretty well taken up then, between beef-tea and games, and you’re likely to find the boat-deck empty; it’s just as well not to court observation when you attack him in force.” So the deputation possessed its soul in what patience it might until the coast was fairly clear, and then made a rapid ascent to the upper deck.
“Shall we send him a message?” Norah asked, stopping at the foot of the ladder.
“No, I don’t think so,” Jim answered. “This is a private call, and we don’t want attention drawn to it. Come on.” They plunged up the steep steps and knocked discreetly.
“Come in,” said the captain’s voice; and they entered, to find not only Captain Garth, but the chief officer, comfortably ensconced in easy chairs; at sight of whom the deputation stopped, in some confusion.
“I beg your pardon,” Jim said; “we ought to have found out if you were engaged.”
“By no means—it’s all right,” said the captain, cheerfully. “Mr. Dixon and I were merely discussing affairs of state—the weight of brown trout, I think it was, eh, Dixon? Sit down, Miss Norah. Is it very private, or can Mr. Dixon stay?”