Fenshawe's cabin, and the order was given to raise the anchor
immediately. I'm sure they made plenty of noise. They woke me up, miss,
and I'm a sound sleeper."
The maid was ready to say more, but Irene had learnt to discourage
servants' gossip.
"I think the _Aphrodite_ might have fired cannons last night without
disturbing me," she declared lightly. "What time is it?"
"Nearly nine o'clock, miss. No one seemed to be stirring, so Mr. Gibson
put off breakfast for half an hour. He said that everybody must be worn
out after yesterday's worries."
Irene laughed. Gibson, the head steward, a fatherly sort of man, was a
martinet in the matter of punctuality at meals. This adjourning of the
breakfast hour was a great concession on his part. It showed how
strenuous life had been at Massowah.
Despite her aches and pains, she dressed rapidly. She was all agog to
learn how von Kerber had regained his liberty, and what new development
was marked by the yacht's unexpected sailing. When she hurried to the
bridge for news, the first person she met was Royson, and perhaps one
of those old deities of Memphis would have smiled darkly were he
privileged to see the tell-tale color that leaped to both faces.
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