At the same instant the door of the cabin opened noisily. Rokoff
leaped to his feet, and, turning, faced the Swede cook.

Into the fellow's usually foxy eyes had come an expression of utter
stupidity. His lower jaw drooped in vacuous harmony. He busied
himself in arranging Lady Greystoke's meal upon the tiny table at
one side of her cabin.

The Russian glared at him.

"What do you mean," he cried, "by entering here without permission?
Get out!"

The cook turned his watery blue eyes upon Rokoff and smiled vacuously.

"Ay tank it blow purty soon purty hard," he said, and then he began
rearranging the few dishes upon the little table.

"Get out of here, or I'll throw you out, you miserable blockhead!"
roared Rokoff, taking a threatening step toward the Swede.

Anderssen continued to smile foolishly in his direction, but one
ham-like paw slid stealthily to the handle of the long, slim knife
that protruded from the greasy cord supporting his soiled apron.

Rokoff saw the move and stopped short in his advance. Then he
turned toward Jane Clayton.

"I will give you until tomorrow," he said, "to reconsider your answer