I could see that it was quite incompatible with his idea of my dignity. He looked shocked and pained. I had really had no intention of donning fancy dress, but the complete discomfiture of Pagett was too tempting to be forborne.

“What do you mean?” I said. “Of course I shall wear fancy dress. So will you.”

Pagett shuddered.

“So go down to the barber’s and see about it,” I finished.

“I don’t think he’ll have any out sizes,” murmured Pagett, measuring my figure with his eye.

Without meaning it, Pagett can occasionally be extremely offensive.

“And order a table for six in the saloon,” I said. “We’ll have the captain, the girl with the nice legs, Mrs. Blair⁠—”

“You won’t get Mrs. Blair without Colonel Race,” Pagett interposed. “He’s asked her to dine with him, I know.”

Pagett always knows everything. I was justifiably annoyed.

“Who is Race?” I demanded, exasperated.

As I said before, Pagett always knows everything⁠—or thinks he does. He looked mysterious again.

“They say he’s a secret service chap, Sir Eustace. Rather a great gun too. But of course I don’t know for certain.”

“Isn’t that like the government?” I exclaimed. “Here’s a man on board whose business it is to carry about secret documents, and they go giving them to a peaceful outsider, who only asks to be let alone.”