But Mr. Rodney, for once, was the head of the family.  He faced her sternly.

“Go to your rooms, both of you.  We’ll stay here until this thing is ended.  I don’t give a hang what she’s done, I’m not going to desert her.”

“But—­but he isn’t her husband,” gasped Mrs. Rodney, struck dumb by this amazing rebellion.

“But she’s your cousin, isn’t she, madam?” he retorted with fierce irony.

“I disown her!” wailed his wife, sans raison.

“Go to your rooms!” stormed pudgy Mr. Rodney.  Then, as they slunk away, he turned to the approving Odell-Carney, sticking out his chest a trifle in his new-found authority.  “I say, Carney, what’s to be done next?”

The other looked at him for a moment as if in doubt.  Then his face cleared, and he took the little man’s arm in his.

“We’ll have a drink first and then see,” he said.

As they were entering the buffet, a cheery voice accosted them from behind.  Freddie Ulstervelt came up, real distress in his face.

“I say, count me in on this.  I’ll buy, if I may.  I’ve just heard the news from the door porter.  Bloody shame, isn’t it?  I had Mademoiselle Le Brun over to hear the band concert—­she is related to that painter woman, by the way; I told Katherine she was.  Say, gentlemen, we’ll stand by Mrs. Medcroft, won’t we?  Count me in.  If it’s anything that money can square, I’m here with a letter of credit six figures long.”

“Join us,” said Odell-Carney warmly.  “You’re a good sort, after all.”

They sat down at a table.  Freddie stood between them, a hand on the shoulder of each.  Very seriously he was saying: 

“I say, gentlemen, we can’t abandon a woman at a time like this.  We must stand together.  All true sports and black sheep should stand together, don’t you know.”

It is possible that Odell-Carney appreciated the subtlety of this compliment.  Not so Mr. Rodney.

“Sports?  Black sheep?  Upon my soul, sir, I don’t understand you,” he mumbled.  Mr. Rodney, although he hailed from Seattle, had never known anything but a clean and unrumpled conscience.

Freddie clapped him jovially on the shoulder.  “It’s all right, Mr. Rodney.  I’ll take your word for it.  But if we are black sheep we shan’t be blackguards.  We’ll stand by the ship.  What’s to be done?  Bail ’em out?”

It is of record that the three gentlemen were closeted with the officers and managers for an hour or more, but it is not clear that they transacted anything that could seriously affect the situation.

Mrs. Medcroft, despite Mrs. Odell-Carney’s friendly offices, refused point blank to discuss the situation.  She did not dare to do or say anything as yet.  Her husband had not telegraphed the word releasing her from the sorry compact.  She loyally decided to stand by the agreement, no matter what the cost, until she received word from London that he had triumphed or failed in his brave fight against the “bloodsuckers.”