Until Dacres commenced eating he had no idea how hungry he really was. The food was plain but appetizing, the cold ham especially, and he did hearty justice to the repast.
"Fill your pipe—or do you prefer a cigar?" asked his host pointing to the cabinet. "Try that chair; you'll find it fairly comfortable. By Jove! your boots are wet. Let me offer you some slippers."
"Yes, I feel sorry for your carpet," said Dacres apologetically as he stooped to unfasten his bootlaces.
For a few moments both men smoked in silence. Dacres felt that his host was watching him narrowly, yet he imperturbably puffed at his pipe.
"Look here, Dacres, old man," Whittinghame suddenly exclaimed, "what do you say? Will you ship along with me?"
CHAPTER VIII.
WHITTINGHAME'S NARRATIVE.
VAUGHAN WHITTINGHAME had not made the proposal on the spur of the moment. He already knew the circumstances under which Dacres had left the Service; he was aware that the young man was "down on his luck;" he also had found out that he had volunteered for the Royal Flying Corps.
Dacres was a man who could be useful to him in more ways than one. He was used to command; he had a thorough knowledge of armaments, and what was more essential he was used to navigating a ship and could determine his position by either solar or stellar observation. The coolness with which he had followed Whittinghame into what might have proved to be a dangerous trap convinced the latter that the ex-naval officer was a man on whom he could entirely depend.
"Conditionally—yes," replied Dacres, whereat his companion was even better pleased. He was not a hot-headed man, he reflected.