He waved him away, and Mr. Wilks, still pale, closed the door behind him and, rejoining the captain, sat down on the extreme edge of a chair and waited.
“I've come to see you on a little matter of business,” said his visitor.
Mr. Wilks smiled; then, feeling that perhaps that was not quite the right thing to do, looked serious again.
“I came to see you about my—my son,” continued the captain.
“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Wilks. “Master Jack, you mean?”
“I've only got one son,” said the other, unpleasantly, “unless you happen to know of any more.”
Mr. Wilks almost fell off the edge of the chair in his haste to disclaim any such knowledge. His ideas were in a ferment, and the guilty knowledge of what he had left in the kitchen added to his confusion. And just at that moment the door opened and Miss Nugent came briskly in.
Her surprise at seeing her father ensconced in a chair by the fire led to a rapid volley of questions. The captain, in lieu of answering them, asked another.
“What do you want here?”
“I have come to see Sam,” said Miss Nugent. “Fancy seeing you here! How are you, Sam?”