"Don't know yet. He's still dopy. Just coming out of the effects of
the lethalizing gas."
"Ah, yes, yes, I see. One of the former crew, I suppose. This is
quite inexcusable. That a man should have been overlooked and left
aboard--it won't do, Major. Kloof was responsible for that room. Kloof
will have to suffer. Any other news?"
"Travers, the New Zealander, is wounded."
"Badly?"
"I'm afraid he's hard hit, sir."
"Well, I'll have a look at him and at this stowaway. Where are they,
now?"
"In the lazaret, I suppose you call it. Though what a hospital is,
aboard an air-liner, blest if I know!"
"Sick-bay, we'll call it. Problems rising already. A stowaway--rather
odd, I must say. Still, as a problem, it's not hard to solve. Nothing
simpler than dropping a man overboard."
"You--surely, you wouldn't do that!" ejaculated the major, startled.
His rubicund face grew round with amazement.
"That remains to be seen. Come, let's have a look at him!"
Together they went out into the brightly lighted main corridor, near
the ladder to the upper gallery, turned to the right and walked aft.
A door, just a little abaft the chartroom and, opposite the Master's
cabin, gave a glimpse of the as yet unoccupied smoke-room.
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