Mr. Chalk returned their gaze with something like defiance. Half an hour
before he had expected to have been killed and eaten. He had passed a
night of horror, expecting death every minute. Now he exulted in the
blue sky, the line of white breakers crashing on the reef, and the sea
sparkling in the sunshine; and he had not spent twenty-five years with
Mrs. Chalk without acquiring some skill in the noble art of self-defence.
"Ah, Brisket was trying to pump me a week ago," he said, confidentially.
"I see it all now."
The others glared at him luridly.
"He said that he had seen us through the skylight studying a paper,"
continued Mr. Chalk, shaking his head. "I thought at the time you were
rather rash, Tredgold."
Mr. Tredgold choked and, meeting the fault-finding eye of Mr. Stobell,
began to protest.
"The thing Brisket couldn't understand," said Chalk, gaining confidence
as he proceeded, "was Stobell's behaviour. He said that he couldn't
believe that a man who grumbled at the sea so much as he did could be
sailing for pleasure."
Mr. Stobell glowered fiercely. "Why didn't you tell us before?" he
demanded.
"I didn't attach any importance to it," said Mr.
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