"Don't hurt the child!" said Saltash sharply.
Larpent smiled his faint, sardonic smile, and turned away.
Toby laid his cheek with a winning, boyish gesture against the hand that
held him. "Don't make me go to bed, sir!" he pleaded. "I'll be miserable
in bed."
Saltash looked down at him with eyebrows comically working. "It is rather
a hole--that cabin of yours," he conceded. "You can lie on the couch in
my stateroom if you like. Don't get up to mischief, that's all! I'm
responsible for you, remember."
Toby thanked him humbly, swearing obedience and good behaviour. The
couch in Saltash's cabin was immediately under a porthole, and the fresh
sea-air blew straight in. He stretched his meagre person upon it with
a sigh of contentment, and Saltash smiled down upon him. "That's right.
You'll do there. Let's see! What did you say your name was?"
"Toby, sir."
"Toby Barnes or Toby Wright?" said Saltash.
The boy started, turned very red, then very white, opened his mouth to
speak, shut it tightly, and said nothing.
Saltash took out his cigarette-case and opened it with great
leisureliness. The smile still played about his ugly features as he chose
a cigarette. Finally he snapped the lid and looked down again at his
_protege_.
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