While Bowden ascended to the bridge to relieve the first mate, Gerald explored the ship. He came across one or two rough sailors, who either wished him a sullen "Good-day," or stared at him as though he were some new species.
As a matter of fact, Bowden had given it out to the crew that their passenger was an eccentric, but harmless young man, who was labouring under the delusion that an attempt had been made to kill him. Hence the men's curiosity.
Gerald Durrant was unused to the sea, and in his present unstrung condition, he was indeed scarcely responsible for his actions.
But what the captain had told him had astounded him. The description of his mysterious "friend" Morton—a man who was evidently his enemy—certainly did not tally with that of Bernard Boyne.
Yet he could not erase from his mind the suspicion that Boyne had had a hand in that plot by which he had been carried away from London—just at a moment when his presence there was so much needed.
Again, as he stood against the hatchway gazing wistfully at the distant French coast that was fast disappearing, the thought suddenly occurred to him that if his disappearance was actually due to Boyne, then the latter must have, somehow or other, discovered the fact that he was keeping him under observation.
If Boyne had really found it out, then he would also know that Marigold had been assisting him. This would, no doubt, lead him to suspect the real motive of her two stays at Bridge Place.
Bernard Boyne would entrap her—just as he had been entrapped!
In his despair he saw himself powerless, either to warn or to assist the girl he so fondly loved!
CHAPTER XXII