“If you will excuse me,” said Stranleigh, “I will precede you on board, to inform cook and steward that three more plates are to be provided.”
He and the doctor sprang up the steps; the motor boat gave itself a flick astern, and then the steam launch came to the floor of the gangway. Stranleigh welcomed his guests at the head of the stair, conducted captain and manager to easy-chairs aft, and ordered the deck steward to bring them sherry and bitters. He made a mental note of the fact that the mate had remained in the launch, and from this surmised that he had not succeeded in allaying the suspicions of captain and manager. He resolved to give them an opportunity of consulting alone together, wondering what their action would be when they had come to a decision regarding recent events.
“I must go below to see about the wine. Like a prudent owner I hold the keys of the wine bin myself. With a mixed crew you know the wisdom of such a course, captain.”
“Yes, sir, I do,” and with this the genial host went down the companion way with the doctor.
“What do you think of him?” muttered the captain, when they were thus left in solitude on the after deck.
“Oh, he’s all right,” said Frowningshield confidently. “I’ve met plenty of that kind before. A rich ass, good-natured, without too much brains, blowing in the money he has inherited.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” replied the captain.
“Oh, you’re suspicious of everybody. He has blundered in here, and I dare say has amused himself as he said, shooting and chopping, and what not.”
“Do you see,” murmured the captain, “that this boat is fitted up for wireless telegraphy? That’s the meaning of the line between the masts.”
Frowningshield looked aloft.