Then in his quiet, thick tone he wanted to know if I had complained
formally of the Steward's action.

I said that I hadn't--though, indeed, it was not for want of
opportunity. Captain Ellis had gone for me bald-headed in a most
ridiculous fashion for being out of the way when wanted.

"Funny old gentleman," interjected Captain Giles. "What did you say to
that?"

"I said simply that I came along the very moment I heard of his message.
Nothing more. I didn't want to hurt the Steward. I would scorn to harm
such an object. No. I made no complaint, but I believe he thinks I've
done so. Let him think. He's got a fright he won't forget in a hurry,
for Captain Ellis would kick him out into the middle of Asia. . . ."

"Wait a moment," said Captain Giles, leaving me suddenly. I sat down
feeling very tired, mostly in my head. Before I could start a train of
thought he stood again before me, murmuring the excuse that he had to go
and put the fellow's mind at ease.

I looked up with surprise. But in reality I was indifferent. He
explained that he had found the Steward lying face downward on the
horsehair sofa. He was all right now.

"He would not have died of fright," I said contemptuously.

"No. But he might have taken an overdose out of one of them little
bottles he keeps in his room," Captain Giles argued seriously. "The
confounded fool has tried to poison himself once--a few years ago."