He disappeared again, but his voice came floating down the companion-ladder. "I 'ope—you'll accept—my good—wishes."
Captain Trimblett started as though he had been stung, and his temperature rose to as near boiling point as science and the human mechanism will allow. Twice he opened his mouth to bellow the boatswain back again, and twice his courage failed him. He sat a picture of wrathful consternation until, his gaze falling on a bottle of beer, he emptied it with great rapidity, and pushing his plate away and lighting his pipe sat trying to read a harmless meaning into Mr. Walters's infernal congratulations.
He rose early next morning and set off for Laurel Lodge, a prey to gloom, which the furtive glances of Mr. Walters had done nothing to dissipate. Hartley was still in his bedroom when he arrived, but Rosa showed him into the dining-room, and, having placed a chair, sped lightly upstairs.
"I've told him," she said, returning in a breathless condition and smiling at him.
The captain scowled at her.
"And he says he'll be down in a minute."
"Very good," said the captain, with a nod of dismissal.
Miss Jelks went as far as the sideboard, and, taking out a tablecloth, proceeded to set the breakfast, regarding the captain with unaffected interest as she worked.
"He ain't been very well the last day or two," she said, blandly.
The captain ignored her.