The crew of the Thetis were about half way through the meal when Peter put down his cup and sniffed.
"Something burning," he announced.
"By Jove! There is," agreed Mr. Clifton, getting up and disappearing into the fo'c'sle.
"No," he said, as he re-entered the cabin. "There's nothing smouldering there. I thought that perhaps the stove was still alight. See if everything's all right on deck, Carline."
Carline, who was sitting nearest the companion, went up the steps.
"It's a big bonfire, sir," he reported. "They're burning rubbish across the river."
The skipper went on deck. From the garden of the glaring red-bricked house dense clouds of vile-smelling smoke were drifting in the direction of the Thetis, enveloping the yacht in a pall of acrid vapour.
"Our friend the pasty-faced gentleman evidently resents our presence," he remarked with a laugh. "Apparently he thinks he can smoke us out. He won't."
"Dirty trick," commented Peter.
"But it won't affect us," added Carline. "'There's not much smoke coming into the cabin. Besides, we've nearly finished tea."