A hush fell upon the group, during which Kirkwood sought Stryker's eye inpitiful pleading; and Stryker looked round him blankly.

"Where's Miss Calendar?" the youthful man demanded sharply. "I must look at her atonce!"

The keen and deep-set eyes of the skipper clouded as they returned toKirkwood's perturbed countenance. "Wot're you talking about?" he demandedbrusquely.

"I must look at Miss Calendar, or Calendar himself, or Mulready." Kirkwoodpaused, and, getting no reply, grew restive under Stryker's inscrutableregard.

"That's why I came aboard," he amended, blind to the absurdity of thestatement; "to see--er--Calendar."

"Well ... I'm damned!"

Stryker managed to infuse into his tone a deal of suspicious contempt.

"Why?" insisted Kirkwood, nettled but still uncomprehending.

"D'you mean to tell me you came off from--wherever in 'ell you did comefrom--intendin' to board this wessel and find a party nymed Calendar?"

"Certainly I did. Why--?"

"Well!" cried Mr. Stryker, rubbing his hands together with an airoppressively obsequious, "I'm sorry to _hin_-form you you have come to thewrong shop, sir; we don't stock no Calendars. We're in the 'ardware line,we are. You might try next door, or I dessay you'll find what you want atthe stytioner's, round the corner."

A giggle from his audience stimulated him. "If," he continued acidly,"I'd a-guessed you was such a damn' fool, blimmy if I wouldn't've let youdrownd!"

Staggewhite, Kirkwood bore his sarcastic truculence without resentment.