Okewood of the Secret Service
beyond, a long line of cheerfully illuminated windows that to those returning from leave seemed as the last link with home. 

 The Corporal of Military Police, who stood at the gangway examining the passes, stopped Desmond Okewood as the latter held out his pass into the rays of the man’s lantern. 

 “There was a message for you, sir,” said the Corporal. “The captain of the Staff boat would h-esteem it a favor, sir, if you would kindly go to his cabin immediately on h-arriving on board, sir!” 

 “Very good, Corporal!” answered the officer and passed up the gang plank, enviously regarded by the press of brass-hats and red-tabs who, for the most part, had a cramped berth below or cold quarters on deck to look forward to. 

 A seaman directed Desmond to the Captain’s cabin. It was built out just behind the bridge, a snug, cheery room with bright chintz curtains over the carefully screened portholes, a couple of comfortable benches with leather seats along the walls, a small bunk, and in the middle of the floor a table set out with a bottle of whiskey, a siphon and some glasses together with a box of cigars. 

 The Captain was sitting there chatting to the pilot, a short, enormously broad man with a magenta face and prodigious hands which were folded round a smoking glass of toddy. 

 “Pick ’em up? Rescue ’em?” the pilot ejaculated, as Desmond walked in, “I’d let ’em sink, every man Jack o’ them, the outrageous murderin’ scoundrels. I don’t like to hear you a-talking of such nonsense, Cap’en!” 

 On Desmond’s entrance the Captain broke off the conversation. He proved to be a trimly-built man of about fifty with a grizzled beard, and an air of quiet efficiency which is not uncommonly found in seamen. The pilot drained his glass and, scrambling to his feet, nodded to Desmond and stumped out into the cold night air. 

 “Jawin’ about the U boats!” said the Captain, with a jerk of his head towards the cabin door, “I don’t know what the feelings of your men in the trenches are towards Fritz, Major, but I tell you that no German will dare set foot in any coast port of the United Kingdom in my life-time or yours, either! Accommodation’s a bit narrow on board. I thought maybe you’d care to spend the night up here!” 

 “Any orders about me?” asked Desmond. 

 The Captain went a shade deeper mahogany in 
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