“Thought I’d never get out of it alive!” he remarked complacently. In the darkness I could not see his face, but I was sure he was still vaguely smiling. “Worse than a foot-ball night!” he exclaimed; “worse than Mafeking night!”
His sister pointed to the yawl.
“This gentleman is going to bring that boat here and take us away in it,” she told him. “We had better go when we can!”
“Right ho!” assented Stumps cheerfully. “How about Phil? He’s just behind me.”
As he spoke, only a few yards from us a peevish voice pierced the tumult.
“I tell you,” it cried, “you must find Lord Ivy! If Lord Ivy—”
A voice with a strong and brutal American accent yelled in answer: “To hell with Lord Ivy!”
Lady Moya chuckled.
“Get to the lower deck!” I commanded. “I am going for the yawl.”
As I slipped my leg over the rail I heard Lord Ivy say: “I’ll find Phil and meet you.”