urn or two he drew up under one of them, and looked round to
see whether anyone listened.

'Don't give me away for God's sake,' he said. He held up a hand
towards the light pathetically. 'It's showing,' he said. 'God
knows why. God knows what I've done to bring it.'

I said nothing, but looked at him and considered him carefully.
He certainly did not seem to be drunk.

Then I examined the hand he gave me.

'I don't see anything particular,' I said. 'What's wrong?'

'Good Lord! The nails.'

But the nails looked to me pink and healthy.

'Tell me,' I said, 'What you think's wrong.'

Yet he could not tell me that night. He tried to tell me. He was
just like a little boy in most awful trepidation, trying to
confess some big transgression. He gasped and spluttered, but he
never got it out that night. I couldn't make head nor tail of
what he said. After he was gone to bed it is true I put two and
two together and guessed something. But I was fairly puzzled at
the time.

'You're a bit upset to-night,' I said. 'You're not quite
yourself, it's the sea I suppose, or something. Come to bed and
get a good night.' His teeth chattered as he came down the
ladder. I got him down to his cabin.

'Thanks!' he said. 'Good night! I may come all right in the
morning. Anyhow I'll have a bath and try.'

He said it so naively that I could not help laughing.

'Yes, have a sea-water-bath, a jolly good idea,' I said. 'You'll
have to be up early. There's only one and there's a run on it
before breakfast. Goodnight!'

I saw him again in the morning outside the bathroom. He came out
in his pink-and-white pyjamas; the pink was aggressive and fought
with the tint of his moustache. He looked very blue and wretched.

'Well,' I asked, 'Have you slept it off whatever it was?'

'No,' he said, 'let me tell you about it.' He began to gasp and
splutter.

Just then another postulant came up, making for the bath-room
door.

'Afterwards!' I said, 'After breakfast.' And I vanished into the
bath-room. It was probably Carraway, I thought, that had left a
little collection of soaps in that bath-room. He had brought a
bucket of fresh water with him apparently to give them a fair
trial. There was yellow soap, a pumice stone, and carbolic soap,
and scented soap. 'I'll keep them for him,' I thought. 'Somebody
may jump them if I leave them here. I wonder why in the world
he's so distrait.' I had my suspicions as to the reason, and I
laughed softly