The fully opened door revealed the white coat and bobbly trousers of a veritable bedroom steward.
“All right, my man,” said the little lawyer, “I’m going ashore in a minute.”
“Ha,” said the steward, coming in with the satisfaction on his face such as policemen wear when they catch an authentic burglar. “Should be ashore. Orders is that all visitors sh’d be ashore. Come this way, sir. Quick, please, sir.”
“I’m going ashore in a minute,” said the little lawyer.
“Orders, sir. Gotter be now, sir.”
“Get out of this,” snapped the lawyer. “I’ll go ashore before the ship sails, never you fear.”
The steward came forward with an air of menace in his bearing.
“You go ashore, now, see. Them’s me orders, an’ I’ve got to see that it’s done—can’t stop arguing.”
“I don’t want you to,” said the little man decisively. “Particularly as Captain Heavy is the person you should argue with. If Captain Heavy was wrong in saying I could stop aboard, I think you should be the one to tell him, not me.”
“Ca’pen Heavy.... Why didn’t you say that ’efore?” snarled the man. He went sullenly out of the cabin. The little lawyer waited for a minute, then he slipped out, too. He darted up the little alleyway that led to the main passage along the deck. Clement heard him say in a tart voice: