The doctor cleared his throat and turned to the captain.  “Yes, my report is good on the whole,” he said.  “None of the men are seriously injured, thanks to your prompt rescue measures.  Captain Larpent is still unconscious; he is suffering from concussion.  But I believe he will recover.  And—­and—­” he hesitated, looking again at Saltash—­“the—­the person whose life you saved—­”

Saltash leaned back in his chair, grinning mischievously.  “To be sure!  The person—­whose life I saved!  What of that person, Dr. Hurst?”

“Had you a passenger?” interrupted the captain.  “I understood you saved a cabin-boy.”

“Pray continue!” he said lightly.  “What of the cabin-boy?  None the worse, I hope?”

The doctor’s lank figure drew together with a stiff movement of distaste.  “I see,” he said, “that you are aware of a certain fact which I must admit has given me a somewhat unpleasant surprise.”

Saltash turned abruptly to the captain.  “You ask me if I had a passenger,” he said, speaking briefly, with a hint of hauteur.  “Before you also begin to be unpleasantly surprised, let me explain that I had a child on board who did not belong to the ship’s company.”

“A child?” Captain Beaumont looked at him in astonishment.  “I thought—­I understood—­Do you mean the boy?”

“Not a boy, no,—­a girl!” Saltash’s voice was suddenly very suave; he was smiling still, but there was something rather formidable about his smile.  “A young girl, Captain Beaumont, but amply protected, I assure you.  It was our last night on board.  She was masquerading in the state-cabin in a page’s livery when you struck us.  But for Larpent we should have been trapped there like rats when the yacht went down.  He came and hauled us out, and we saved the child between us.”  He turned again to the doctor, his teeth gleaming fox-like between his smiling lips.  “Really, I am sorry to disappoint you,” he said.  “But the truth is seldom as highly-coloured as our unpleasant imaginings.  The child is—­Larpent’s daughter.”  He rose with the words, still suavely smiling.  “And now, if she is well enough, I am going to ask you to take me to her.  It will be better for her to hear about her father from me than from a stranger.”

Though courteously uttered, his words contained a distinct command.  The doctor looked at him with the hostility born of discomfiture, but he raised no protest.  Somehow Saltash was invincible at that moment.

“Certainly you can see her if you wish,” he said stiffly.  “In fact, she has been asking for you.”

“Ah!” said Saltash, and turned with ceremony to the captain.  “Have I your permission to go, sir?”

“Of course—­of course!” the captain said.  “I shall hope to see you again later, Lord Saltash.”

“Thank you,” said Saltash, and relaxed into his sudden grin.  “I should have thought you would be glad to get rid of me before my bad luck spreads any further.”