ey'd object to my intrusion?"

"They'd be awfully bucked," said James. "Come along." As they passed
out of the door they met the Marine postman entering with his arms full
of letters and papers. "Hullo," he continued, "here's the mail--you'll
see a Gunroom devouring its letters: rather like a visit to the Zoo about
feeding-time!"

They came to the door of the Gunroom, and James, opening it, motioned his
guest to enter. One end of the table resembled a bee swarm: a babel of
voices sounded as those nearest the pile of letters shouted the names of
the addressees and tossed the missives back over their heads.

The two men stood smiling and unobserved in the doorway until the
distribution was complete. Then they were seen, and the Sub advanced to
extend the hospitality of his realm.

"Kedgeree," said James, "this is my uncle. He's getting bored with the
Wardroom and I've brought him along here." The Sub laughingly shook
hands, and the inmates in his immediate vicinity gathered round with the
polite air of a community of whom something startling was expected.

"Won't you sit down, sir?" asked one, drawing forward the battered wicker
arm-chair. "It's all right as long as you don't lean back--but if you do
we must prop it against the table." He suited the action to the words,
and the guest sat down rather gingerly.

"Won't you have something to drink?" queried Kedgeree. "Whisky and soda
or something?"

Sir William smilingly declined.

"Would you care to hear the gramophone?" queried the champion of that
particular form of entertainment. "We've got some perfectly priceless
George Robey ones--have you ever heard 'What there was, was Good?'" He
moved towards the instrument.

"Never," said Sir William, taking advantage of the support afforded by
the table and leaning back, "but nothing would give me greater pleasure."

The disk had no sooner commenced to revolve when Lettigne advanced with a
soda-water bottle, a corkscrew and half a lemon, collected at random from
the sideboard.

"I don't know if you like watching a bit of juggling," he said shyly, and
began to throw into the air and catch his miscellany, while the trumpet
of the gramophone proclaimed that "What there was, was Good," in
stentorian, brazen shouts.

Sir William screwed his eyeglass tighter into his eye. "Remarkable!" he
said warmly. "A remarkably deft performance! Capital! Capital!"

The Gunroom eyed one another anxiously. It was only