Saltash turned abruptly to the captain. "You ask me if I had a
passenger," he said, speaking briefly, with a hint of hauteur. "Before
you also begin to be unpleasantly surprised, let me explain that I had a
child on board who did not belong to the ship's company."

"A child?" Captain Beaumont looked at him in astonishment. "I thought--I
understood--Do you mean the boy?"

"Not a boy, no,--a girl!" Saltash's voice was suddenly very suave; he was
smiling still, but there was something rather formidable about his smile.
"A young girl, Captain Beaumont, but amply protected, I assure you. It
was our last night on board. She was masquerading in the state-cabin in a
page's livery when you struck us. But for Larpent we should have been
trapped there like rats when the yacht went down. He came and hauled us
out, and we saved the child between us." He turned again to the doctor,
his teeth gleaming fox-like between his smiling lips. "Really, I am sorry
to disappoint you," he said. "But the truth is seldom as highly-coloured
as our unpleasant imaginings. The child is--Larpent's daughter." He rose
with the words, still suavely smiling. "And now, if she is well enough, I
am going to ask you to take me to her. It will be better for her to hear
about her father from me than from a stranger."

Though courteously uttered, his words contained a distinct command. The
doctor looked at him with the hostility born of discomfiture, but he
raised no protest. Somehow Saltash was invincible at that moment.

"Certainly you can see her if you wish," he said stiffly. "In fact, she
has been asking for you."