he deck was clear again.

"I don't suppose it hurts you to get wet," said the Duke to his sister,
"but you would be much better under hatches while this sort of thing is
going on."

"I think, if you will help me, I will go down and see how the Countess
is," said Miss Skeat; and Claudius detached her from the rigging and got
her down the companion, but the Duke stayed with his sister, who begged
for a few minutes more. Once below, Claudius felt how near he was to
Margaret, who was doubtless in the ladies' cabin. He could reach his own
quarters without entering that sanctum, of course, but as he still held
Miss Skeat's arm to steady her to the door, he could not resist the
temptation of putting his head through, for he knew now that she must be
there. It was a large sitting-room, extending through the whole beam,
with big port-holes on each side. Miss Skeat entered, and Claudius
looked in.

There was Margaret, looking much as usual, her face turned a little from
him as she lay in a huge arm-chair. She could not see him as she was,
and his heart beat furiously as he looked at the face he loved best of
all others.

Margaret spoke to Miss Skeat without turning her head, for she was
working at some of her eternal needlework.

"Have you had a good time? How did you get down?"

"Such an airing," answered the lady-companion, who was divesting herself
of her wraps, "and Dr Claudius--"

The last was lost to the Doctor's ear, for he withdrew his head and beat
a hasty retreat. Miss Skeat also stopped speaking suddenly, for as she
mentioned his name she looked naturally towards the door, supposing him
to be standing there, and she just saw his head disappear from between
the curtains. Margaret turned her eyes and saw Miss Skeat's
astonishment.

"Well, what about Dr. Claudius?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," said Miss Skeat, "you asked me how I got down, and I was
going to say Dr. Claudius gave me his arm, and I thought he had come in
here with me."

Neither Miss Skeat nor Claudius had noticed Mr. Barker, who was
ensconced on a corner transom, with his nails and a book to amuse
himself with. He saw the whole thing: how the Doctor put his white face
and dripping beard through the curtains, and suddenly withdrew it at the
mention of his name, and how Miss Skeat held her peace about having seen
it too. He reflected that something had happened, that Miss Skeat knew
all about it, and that she was a discreet woman. He wondered what