It was fairly dark now and by lifting a head over the side of his
berth, he saw the outline of the Frenchman standing by the door. Madden
thought of the stolen medicine chest and remained silent.
The Gaul was about to withdraw when Madden called out.
"What is it, Deschaillon?"
"I just came by to say your frien' ees in trouble. Zay play cards in zee
salon. Smeeth he win _beaucoup_. Zay quarrel, perhaps zay fight. He
ees your frien', and--"
Leonard smiled when he heard the mess hall dignified into a salon; but
at the latter end of the sentence he sat up suddenly in his bunk and
began pulling on his jacket despite the twinges in his side.
"Eh, how's that--fight?"
At that instant Hogan lolled against the jamb and announced his entrance
with a laugh.
"What's this Deschaillon's telling me, Mike--the men fighting over
cards?"
"Sure now I heard him and told him not to be wakin' a sick man up for
sich trifles. They was a few raymarks ixchanged, but nawthin' ser'us."
He turned reproachfully on the Gaul. "Nixt time be advised by me and
don't be wakin' a sick man for nawthin'."
The two walked away and Leonard leaned back in his bunk, quite sleepless
now. He stared into the blackness, his mind a moving picture show of the
last three days. The Englishman was chief actor on this stage, and his
disagreeably mixed character puzzled and disturbed the American.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39