“Where does that lead to?” she asked, pointing to the door of the state-room.
The mate, remembering in time the mysterious behaviour of Flower, considered the situation. “That’s the pantry,” he said, untruthfully.
The visitor rose and tried the handle. The door was locked, and she looked doubtfully at the mate. “I suppose that’s a leg of mutton I can hear asleep in there,” she said, with acerbity.
“You can suppose what you like,” said the mate, testily; “why don’t you go away? I’m surprised at you.”
“You’ll be more surprised before I’ve done with you,” said the lady, with emotion. “My Fred’s in there, and you know it.”
“Your Fred!” said Fraser, in great surprise.
“Mr. Robinson,” said the visitor, correcting herself.
“I tell you there’s nobody in there except the skipper,” said the mate.
“You said it was the pantry just now,” exclaimed the other, sharply.
“The skipper sleeps in the pantry so’s he can keep his eye on the meat,” explained Fraser.