"Didn't he command the Lammermoor thirty years ago?"

"That's the man."

"I thought I recognized him. I lay at anchor in a ship next to his
in Table Bay that time ago."

"Oh, the wickedness of the world, the wickedness of the world," Mr.
Pike muttered as he turned and strode away.

I said good-night to the second mate and had started to go below,
when he called to me in a low voice, "Mr. Pathurst!"

I stopped, and then he said, hurriedly and confusedly:

"Never mind, sir . . . I beg your pardon . . . I--I changed my mind."

Below, lying in my bunk, I found myself unable to read. My mind was
bent on returning to what had just occurred on deck, and, against my
will, the most gruesome speculations kept suggesting themselves.

And then came Mr. Mellaire. He had slipped down the booby hatch into
the big after-room and thence through the hallway to my room. He
entered noiselessly, on clumsy tiptoes, and pressed his finger
warningly to his lips. Not until he was beside my bunk did he speak,
and then it was in a whisper.

"I beg your pardon, sir, Mr. Pathurst . . . I--I beg your pardon;
but, you see, sir, I was just passing, and seeing you awake I . . . I
thought it would not inconvenience you to . . . you see, I thought I