I stared at him, at
a loss to know why, on the heels of our row on deck and my rejection of
his friendly warning, he should perjure himself for me in so obliging
a fashion. He had, I was aware, been too far off that night to know
whether I had thrown away a paper-weight or a sand-bag. Moreover,
the object had been swathed beyond recognition in the extra that
was primarily responsible for all this fuss. "He is sorry for me,"
I decided. "He thinks the girl has made a fool of me." Instead of
experiencing gratitude, I felt more galled and wrathful than before.
"Is that so? How close were you?" the lieutenant asked alertly. "About
ten feet? You are quite sure? Well--it's all right, I suppose, then," he
admitted in a very grudging tone.
"No, it isn't," I declared tartly. I was by no means satisfied with
so half-hearted a vindication; nor did I care to owe my immunity to
a patronizing lie on Mr. Van Blarcom's part. "You have accused me of
spying. Do you think I'll let it go at that? I insist that you have my
baggage brought up here and that you search it and search me.
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