affair of Jack
Harrowby's flame. As he went along the Front he wondered if she would go
out to lunch with him. And then he saw that the post-card shop was shut
up and a sentry stood in front with his rifle on his shoulder. Mr.
Spokesly walked on and turned up the next street. The sight of that
closed shop and the sentry gave him a chill all down his spine. What had
happened? He made his way to the establishment of Mr. Dainopoulos. That
gentleman at once exclaimed at the improved appearance of his friend,
but without quitting his accounts which littered the desk and overflowed
on to the shelves along the sides. He offered a chair and a cigarette.
Mr. Spokesly watched him with respect. He had sense enough to see that
Mr. Dainopoulos was only doing business in the old-fashioned way, as it
was done in England and in New England, too, before shipowners became
too exalted to talk to their own shipmasters or to go down to meet their
own ships. There might be something in this business for him even after
the war. If it grew there would be an overlooker needed. He let his mind
go forward. Perhaps the _Tanganyika's_ sudden eclipse was really a
blessing in disguise. An ill wind blowing prosperity in his direction.
It would be unjust to say of him that he did not regret the loss of
those lives. He did, as sincerely as anybody else. But he was alive and
they were dead, and if there is one thing men learn promptly it is the
difference between the quick and the dead. So he let his mind go
forward. And when Captain Rannie suddenly came in, Mr. Spokesly almost
failed to recognize him. Not that Captain Rannie particularly desired
recognition. He sat down and continued a monologue on the decay of
morals in the merchant service. Went back to the ship, and what did he
find? Nothing done. Mate and engineer playing cards in the cabin. Cook
drunk. And so on. From bad to worse.

"But where's the harm in a game of cards, Captain?" asked Mr. Spokesly,
slightly amused.

This question upset Captain Rannie very much. He was unused to questions
from strangers. It interrupted the flow of his thought. He looked down
at his feet and took out a cigarette.

"Ah!" he said, as though an astonishingly fresh argument was about to be
born. "Ah! That's the point, that's the point. No harm at all. It's the
principle that's at stake--I expressly stated my dislike of the cabin
being used as a gambling-den and these officers of mine expressly
disregard my repea