"Come in," growled the deep tones of that surly officer.
And when Clayton had entered, and closed the door behind him:
"Well?"
"I have come to report the gist of a conversation I heard
to-day, because I feel that, while there may be nothing to it,
it is as well that you be forearmed. In short, the men
contemplate mutiny and murder."
"It's a lie!" roared the captain. "And if you have been
interfering again with the discipline of this ship, or meddling
in affairs that don't concern you you can take the consequences,
and be damned. I don't care whether you are an English lord
or not. I'm captain of this here ship, and from now on you
keep your meddling nose out of my business."
The captain had worked himself up to such a frenzy of
rage that he was fairly purple of face, and he shrieked the
last words at the top of his voice, emphasizing his remarks by
a loud thumping of the table with one huge fist, and shaking
the other in Clayton's face.
Greystoke never turned a hair, but stood eying the excited
man with level gaze.
"Captain Billings," he drawled finally, "if you will pardon
my candor, I might remark that you are something of an ass."
Whereupon he turned and left the captain with the same
indifferent ease that was habitual with him, and which was
more surely calculated to raise the ire of a man of Billings'
class than a torrent of invective.
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