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 fog thickened. The steamer slackened up and plowed along at half-speed, blowing her hoarse fog-whistle. Philip went alone to supper.

He found only two thirds of those on board, besides some of the steamer's officers, scattered about the tables. As he sat down the captain, hurrying by, suddenly turned toward him.

"Is your little messmate under the weather?" he asked, abruptly, but not unkindly.

"Yes, sir."

"In his berth? Quite the best place for him! Your brother, I suppose? No? H'm! I'll try to have a little talk with you both later."

With which Captain Widgins walked away, leaving Touchtone decidedly surprised at this unexpected attentiveness, which he set down to the rather public style in which he and Gerald had come aboard.

He had to concentrate all his faculties on his unsteady plate. At last he pushed back his chair and wiped away the water dashed out of his glass into his face as he tried to secure a parting swallow. He looked across to a remote table. Two gentlemen sat there; a