aright. He had
certainly once in an idle moment joked in the fashion Maas had
attributed to him; but what had induced the latter to remember and to
bring it up now, of all times, when their nerves were so tightly
stretched? Maas's face, however, was all innocence. He seemed not to
have noticed the amazement he had caused, but ate his caviare with the
air of a man who had said something worthy, the point of which had
fallen a trifle flat. It was not until the meal was over, and they had
ascended to the deck once more, that Browne found an opportunity of
having a few words with Jimmy.

"What on earth did he mean by that?" he asked. "Do you think he can
have heard anything? Or do you think he only suspects?"

"Neither," said Jimmy. "I'll tell you what I think it was; it was a
perfectly simple remark, which by sheer ill-luck just happened to touch
us in the wrong place. It was, as the shooters say, an unintentional
bull's-eye. But, by Jove! I must confess that it made me feel pretty
bad at the moment."

"Then you think we need not attach any importance to it?"

"I'm quite sure we need not," his friend replied. "Look at it in this
way: if the man had known anything he most certainly would not have
said anything about it. If we had suspected him of knowing our secret,
and had put ourselves out in order to bring him to the point, and he
had kept silence, then we might have thought otherwise; as it is, I am
positive we need not be afraid."

As if to reassure them, Maas said nothing further on the subject. He
was full of good-humour, absorbed the sunshine like a Neapolitan, and
seemed to enjoy every hour he lived. He also did his best to make the
others do likewise. He talked upon every conceivable subject, and did
not feel in the least annoyed when the others appeared occupied. They
passed Plymouth soon after twelve next day, and said good-bye to Old
England shortly afterwards. How little those on board guessed what was
to happen before they could see her shores again? Five days later they
were at Gibraltar, anchored in the harbour beneath the shadow of the
batteries. Though he grudged every minute, and though he had seen the
Rock a dozen times before, Browne accompanied them ashore, explored the
Galleries, and lunched at the Officers' Mess.

"What rum beggars we are, to be sure!" said young Bramthwaite, of the
43rd Midlandshire, to Browne, as they lit their cigars afterwards.
"Here are you, posting of