Farnham started up. It was morning, and the bath-steward was standing in the doorway. “Beg pardon, sir,” said the man again, with a startled look upon his face; “but Captain Black isn’t here, sir, and his berth hasn’t been used.”
“Well, I’m not responsible for his not coming to bed,” said Farnham, testily. “What time is it?”
“Just gone seven bells, sir,” said the steward.
“Very good, I’ll get up,” said Farnham, after a moment’s deliberation. “See if you can get me a bath,” and the man withdrew.
Farnham, reflecting upon the steward’s rather startling announcement, found his irritation giving way to a vague foreboding of evil, with which came a disturbing recollection of Leath’s hurried return to his room the night before. Could the man tell anything? He looked out into the passageway, but the door of the opposite
