“You fancy there is one?” Thorne said quietly.

“Yes.  Lieutenant Atkinson made a little blunder one night when he spoke of him.”

“Atkinson never had very much sense,” Thorne said dryly.  “I, however, fancied a man took his standing among you according to what he did in this country.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Forel.  “The trouble is that the man who has crossed the line once may do so again.  Well, you see who these people are, and if he meets them here it means that I vouch for him.”

Thorne sighed.  “If Atkinson has blundered, I am afraid that I must speak.  Now I don’t think you need be afraid of Seaforth crossing that line again.  He was not worse than foolish and somebody victimized him, but he has had his punishment and borne it very well—­while if you knew the whole story you would scarcely blame him.”

“And that is all you can tell me?”

“Yes,” said Thorne, very quietly.  “Still, I can add that if Charley ever comes back to the old country I—­and my mother and sisters—­would be glad to welcome him.”

“That I think should be sufficient,” said Mrs. Forel, who was acquainted with Commander Thorne’s status in the old country.

It was a little later when Alton glanced towards Thorne, who was talking to Alice Deringham.  “I could get on with that man,” he said.  “You knew him, Charley?”

“Oh, yes,” said Seaforth with a curious expression.  “He is a very good fellow, and has distinguished himself several times.  Somebody left him a good deal of money lately.”

Alton seemed to sigh.  “Well,” he said slowly, “he is to be envied.  They wouldn’t have much use for him in your navy if he was a cripple.”

The party was breaking up before Alton had speech with Alice Deringham again, and as it happened the girl had just left Commander Thorne.  Alton spoke with an effort as one going through a task.  “I never thanked you yet for what you did for me,” he said.

The girl smiled, though her pulses were throbbing painfully.  “It was very little.”

“No,” said Alton gravely.  “I think I should not have been here now if you had not taken care of me, and I’m very grateful.  Still”—­and he glanced down with a wry smile at his knee, which was bent a trifle—­“it was unfortunate you and the doctor did not get me earlier.  There are disadvantages in being—­all one’s life—­a cripple.”

As fate would have it they were interrupted before Miss Deringham could answer, and Alton limped down the stairway very grim in face, while Thorne appeared sympathetic when he overtook him.  “That wound of yours is troubling you?” he said.

“Yes,” said Alton dryly; “I’m afraid it will.  Now I was a trifle confused when you helped me.  Did I tell you how I got it?”

Thorne remembering Seaforth’s story answered indifferently, “I concluded it was an axe-cut.”

He passed on, but Alton had quick perceptions, and made a little gesture of contentment.  “He is almost good enough, anyway,” he said wearily.