Kinnon, impressed with her fear, also rose to his feet. They could hear the locked cabin door being impatiently shaken.
"What shall I do?" whispered the woman. The operator pointed towards his clothes-closet. It was the only resource. He motioned for her to step into it as he himself crossed the cabin towards the outer door, on which someone was now openly and impatiently knocking.
There was a fleeting rustle of drapery, a warning pressure of one slender finger against the woman's lips, and a moment later she had disappeared into her place of hiding and had swung back the door. McKinnon, as soon as he saw she was safe, withdrew his bolt. In the frame of light stood the great, wide-shouldered figure of Duffy. He waited there, without advancing, for several seconds. McKinnon could see his slowly roving eye as it took in each detail of the stateroom. He betrayed no surprise and no curiosity, but across his face flitted a veiled look of apprehension.
"Are you alone?" he asked.
McKinnon nodded.
"Busy?" he next demanded.
The single word bristled with something more than interrogation. But McKinnon felt that he was not in a position to resent it. He stooped
