“And when you received this letter, what did you do?”
“Well, I put him in the second mate’s cabin, and left him alone till two days later, when he came to. Then I just carried out my orders.”
“Where are you bound for?”
“The round trip—Stockholm, Riga, St. Petersburg, Drammen, Christiansund, and home.”
“That means a month.”
“More—six weeks.”
“Your owners, therefore, were anxious that the doctor should be absent from England during that time. There is some mystery here, on the face of it. Doctor Colkirk has related to me a very remarkable story, and the most searching inquiry should be instituted.”
“Well, sir,” Banfield said apologetically, “I hope you don’t consider my conduct bad. I’ve only carried out my orders to the letter. You see I didn’t know that the gentleman was on board until we’d actually left the quay; and the letter says, quite distinctly, that he’s subject to fits, therefore I let him remain quiet until he regained consciousness.” Then, turning to me, he added, “I trust, sir, that you’ll accept my apology.”
“That’s all very well,” interposed the Consul; “but you know that you did entirely wrong in sailing with an unconscious stranger on board.”
“I admit that. But you see I had my orders, sir.”