By reason of Jimmie I reached the dinner table as the soup was being removed. Only four of us messed in the cabin. Mott, the engineers, and Morgan had a separate table of their own aft.
"Late already, my boy. This won't do. Ship's discipline, you know. Make a report and clear yourself," Blythe called out as I entered.
"My patient seems a bit better," I announced, sitting down opposite Miss Wallace.
"Your patient?" that young woman repeated.
"Yes, I find I have a guest to share my cabin with me, and he has begun by yielding to an attack of mal-de-mer."
"Is this a conundrum? I'm not good at them." This from Miss Berry.
"No, it's a stowaway. The conundrum is to know what to do with the little rascal."
"Meaning who?"
"James A. Garfield Welch. I found him tucked away in my berth, very much the worse for wear."
The Englishman helped himself to asparagus tips and laughed.