we shall see what he can have to do with O'Donoghan, if we ever find the
Irishman."

As for Erik, he did not even dare to express the sentiments which the
sight of this man awakened in him. It was more than repulsion, it was
positive hatred, and an instinctive desire to rush upon him and throw
him into the sea. He was convinced that this man had had some share in
the misfortune of his life, but he would have blushed to abandon himself
to such a conviction, or even to speak of it. He contented himself with
saying that he would never have allowed Tudor Brown to come on board if
he had had any voice in the matter.

How should they treat him?

On this point also they were divided. The doctor declared that it would
be politic to treat Tudor Brown with at least outward courtesy, in the
hope of inducing him to speak out. Mr. Bredejord, as well as Erik, felt
a great repugnance to act out such a comedy, and it was by no means
certain that Dr. Schwaryencrona himself would be able to conform to his
own programme. They determined to leave the matter to be decided by
circumstances, and the behavior of Tudor Brown himself.

They did not have to wait long. Precisely at midday the bell rang for
dinner. Mr. Bredejord and the doctor, went to the table of the
commander. There they found Tudor Brown already seated, with his hat on
his head, and he did not manifest the least inclination to enter into
any relations with his neighbors. The man proved to be so rude and
coarse that he disarmed indignation. He seemed to be ignorant of the
simplest rules of politeness. He helped himself first, chose the best
portions, and ate and drank like an ogre. Two or three times the
commander, and Dr. Schwaryencrona addressed a few words to him. He did
not even deign to speak, but answered them by gestures.

That did not prevent him however, when he had finished his repast, and
armed himself with an enormous tooth-pick, from throwing himself back in
his seat, and saying to Mr. Marsilas:

"What day shall we reach Gibraltar?"

"About the nineteenth or twentieth I think," answered the captain.

Tudor Brown drew a book from his pocket, and examined his calendar.

"That will bring us to Malta on the twenty-second, to Alexandria on the
twenty-fifth, and to Aden at the end of the month," said he, as if
speaking to himself.

Then he got up, and going on deck again, began to pace up and down.

"A pleasant traveling companion truly," Mr. Marsilas could