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Updated: May 31, 2025
He was a quiet, hollow-eyed young person, with thick black hair and a thin frame, about which the uniform of the ship hung loosely. "You are the man who boarded the steamer from a seaplane, aren't you, and pretended afterwards to be such a ninny?" "I am," Crawshay acknowledged. "How did you get on to this?" Crawshay raised his eyebrows.
"You have made a definite charge against a wireless operator on the ship. He ought to be placed in the position to be able to refute it if he can." "There is no doubt," Crawshay agreed, "that in course of time he will be given that opportunity. At present it would be indiscreet." "And why?"
I have already expressed my opinion that this box has been surreptitiously placed amongst your belongings, and although, of course, our chief object was to gain possession of it, I regret very much the position in which you are placed." "You are very kind, Mr. Crawshay," she rejoined, without much feeling.
Anything you'd like to add?" Crawshay stroked his upper lip. "You can say," he pronounced with dignity, "that I found the trip most enjoyable. And by-the-by, you had better put a word in about the skill of the pilot Lieutenant T. Johnson, I believe his name was.
Brightman and Crawshay arrived together, and made their way at once to the manager's office, the former noticing, with a little glint of recognition which amounted to scarcely more than a droop of the eyes, two or three sturdy looking men who had the appearance of being a little unused to their evening clothes, and who were loitering about in the vestibule.
"I tried to make you see me last night in the restaurant, but you wouldn't look." He seemed a little dazed, even after he had saluted mechanically, held her hand for a moment and sank into the place by her side. "Nora Sharey!" he repeated. "Why, it was really you, then, dining last night with that fellow Crawshay?"
"I can assure you," she repeated, "that I saw the notes put inside an empty envelope. Mr. Crawshay will tell you that my word is to be relied upon." "Implicitly, Miss Beverley," Crawshay pronounced emphatically, "but under the circumstances I think no harm would be done if you allowed our friend just to glance inside. The notes can easily be sealed up in another envelope."
"Since you ask me," Crawshay replied, "I am." Sir Denis threw away his cigarette. "I suppose," he said quietly, "if I tell you that I am delighted to hear it, for your own sake as well as hers " "That's all I have been hanging about to hear," Crawshay interrupted, turning towards the castle. "I suppose we shall meet again in London?" "I think not.
You are not, I presume, a medical man yourself?" Crawshay shook his head. "A most admirable profession," he declared, "but one which I should never have the nerve to follow." "You do not, therefore, appreciate the fact," Doctor Gant continued, "that a medical man, especially one connected with a hospital of such high standing as St. Agnes's, does not discuss his patient's ailments with strangers."
That is why I think that she will strain every nerve to try and capture you, of course, but she will never sink you, because if she did she would lose everything her Secret Service have worked for in Germany ever since, and even before the commencement of the war." "It's an idea," the captain admitted, with a gleam in his eyes. "It's common sense," Crawshay urged.
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