"She is a widow," I replied, a bit stiffly, resenting his flippancy of tone. "She was the wife of this Henley's half brother, but I have every reason to believe he is dead."
He looked into my face, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Let us hope the good news is true," he said soberly. "Come, don't flare up, man; I recognize the symptoms. But don't you think she will be crying her pretty eyes out down below?"
We went down the companion stairs together, into a deserted cabin. No steward was in evidence, and, finding the Captain's stateroom locked, the Lieutenant kicked open the door, and entered. I turned back, explored the passage, and finally dragged Louis out from a dark corner of the pantry. That darky was plainly in a state of funk, his legs trembling, and the whites of his eyes much in evidence.
"Oh, Lor', Massa Craig," he whined. "Ah ain't done nuthin', deed Ah ain't, sah!"
"You locked up the girl."
"Ah just had to, sah. Captain Henley he just nat'rally skin me alive, sah, if Ah don't. But Ah nebber hurt her none."
"Where is she?"
"In number five, sah; here—here am de key."
"All right, Louis," and I tossed him into one corner. "Now listen; set that table, and get some food on it quick. Make coffee, but don't wait for anything else."