"The doose you are!--Well, you're in the nick of time. Be a good fellow
and fetch my hat out of the boat."
"Certainly, sir," said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. But as he started to do so, he
caught sight of the Admiral. He turned to Jack and said respectfully
but firmly, "I'm very sorry, Master Jack; but I can't do it."
"Why not?"
"I'm looked up to here, sir. I should lose prestige."
Jack eyed him half with suspicion and half with mockery. "I say,
Hoskyn, what's your little game?"
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was getting angry. "What's yours, sir?" he asked
defiantly.
"What the devil do you mean?"
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn pointed an accusing finger at the wine and the crumbs
of cake. "I mean--this."
"What of it? What do you insinuate?" cried Jack fiercely.
But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's blood was up, and he was not to be intimidated.
"It ain't right, sir. It ain't right for you to come here like a snake
in the grass drinking claret and making love to our little Miss Marjory.
I won't help you! I'll be damned if I do!"
"Do you mean I'm doing something underhand?"