"Ah!" he said, with as much interest as he could display in a subject that did not concern him, "he'll find that unpleasant, I daresay."
"I think he will!" said Mr. Perkins, emphatically. "Unless he retracts his infamous calumny, I--I'll kick him from one end of the ship to the other!"
Involuntarily Peter's eyes sought his friend's boots, which, as he sat in a corner seat with his feet extended, were much in evidence; they were strong, suitable boots, stouter than those generally worn on a sea-voyage, and Peter could not repress a slight shudder.
"From one end of the ship to the other," he repeated; "that--that's rather a long way!"
"Quite long enough for him, though not nearly long enough for me!" said the Manager. "I'll teach him to mix me up in these squabbles, when I find him, sir--when I find him! Here, steward, bring some more of these dry biscuits: you'll have some more, won't you?"
But Peter was not in the vein for dry biscuits at that moment, and the Manager continued:
"By-the-by, _you_ might help me in this if you only will. I want to find out if I can before we reach Gib, who this fellow is, but the less I talk about the affair the better."
"Oh! yes," said Peter. "I--I wouldn't talk about it at all, if I were you."
"No, I daresay you're right--can't be too careful with an old cat like that. Well, what I want you to do is to try and find out--quietly, you know--who this infernal fellow is!"
"Well, I daresay I could do that," said Peter.
"No one would think a mild, innocent-looking little chap like you had any particular motive for asking: you might ask some of the men in the smoking-room, and pick up some clue or other."
"Or, I'll tell you what--you might pump the old lady for me, eh?"
"I don't think I quite care about pumping the old lady," said Peter, "but anything else I'll do with pleasure."
"Thanks," said the Manager; "that's a good fellow. I knew I could depend upon you!"
"You can," replied Peter, "though, I fancy," he added, soothingly,--"indeed, I am sure you will find that the old woman has made a good deal out of nothing at all." ...
"_What_ old woman, Peter?" asked Sophia with drowsy asperity. "Not Mrs. Linden, surely!"
Mrs. Linden! Was that the name of the old she-dragon of the music-room? Why, of course not; he was in his arm-chair by his own fire, reading Ibsen to his wife!