"At mademoiselle's request, naturally."
"You'd been deuced gallant up to that time. I presume it didn't occur to you that the young woman might need further protection?"
Lanyard shrugged. "It did not occur to me to refuse her request, monsieur."
"Didn't it strike you as odd she should wish to be left alone with Lieutenant Thackeray?"
"It was not my affair, monsieur. It was her wish."
"Excuse me, cap'n." Crane sat up. "I'd like to ask Mr. Lanyard a question."
But Lanyard had prepared himself against that, and acknowledged the touch with a quiet smile and the hint of a bow.
"Monsieur Crane. …"
"U. S. Secret Service," Crane informed him with a grin. "Velasco spotted you—had seen you years ago in Paruss—tipped me off."
"So one inferred. And these gentlemen?" Lanyard indicated the captain and third officer.
"I wised them up—had to, when this happened."
"Naturally, monsieur. Proceed. …"
"I only wanted to ask if you noticed anything to make you think perhaps there was an understanding between Miss Brooke and the lieutenant?"
"Why should I?"
"I ain't curious why you should. What I want to know is, did you?"
"No, monsieur," Lanyard lied blandly.
"The little lady didn't seem to take on more'n she naturally would if the lieutenant'd been a stranger, eh?"
