"That's my name--Byron, sir, at your service," said the man, as he
touched his cap to the lieutenant, and rushed forward in answer to the
call of his superior, evidently glad to escape from the inquisition to
which he had been subjected. "On deck!" he added, as he made his way to
the forecastle.
Christy was a passenger on board of the Vernon, and he had nothing to
do. The commanding officer appeared to be engaged in the details of his
duty, though the steamer was in charge of a pilot. He could see from
his shoulder straps that he was an ensign, and the officers in the waist
and on the forecastle were of the same rank. If there were any other
passengers on board of the vessel who were commissioned officers, they
were not visible on the deck, though they might be in their staterooms,
arranging their affairs for the voyage.
The young lieutenant leaned against the rail, and gave himself up to the
consideration of what had occurred since he came on board. He had been
bewildered by one mystery the night before, and he could not help asking
himself if the conduct of Walsh had anything to do with the visit of the
intruder at Bonnydale. He could not trace out any connection between the
two events; but, on the other hand, he was unable to satisfy himself
that the mysterious visit, the sudden disappearance of the man-servant,
and the denial of his identity by the latter, were not in some manner
related to each other.
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