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HE next day was as thick as ever and the Pavonia poked her way through the fog towards Fire Island in the company of half a dozen other screaming liners with whom Micky kept m constant conversation. Indeed there were so many messages to and from shore that morning and all the afternoon as well, and he had little time to think of either Graeme or Chilvers. A message had come for the Captain congratulating him on his arrest of the latter but there was nothing further officially about the murder of the Earl of Roakby. Nevertheless Micky knew that the bolt would be searched from keel to crow’s nest before she was half way to her dock from quarantine and that if anything was to be done for Graeme it would have to be done within the next few hours.