"Tell me, Admiral Starr," he went on quietly, "are we to drive out the devils of madness by whipping, a quaint old medieval custom, or maybe, sir, by drowning, remember the Gadarene swine? Or perhaps a month or two in cells, you think, is the best cure for tuberculosis?"

"What in heaven's name are you talking about, Brooks?" Starr demanded angrily. "Gadarene swine, tuberculosis, what are you getting at, man? Go on, explain." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, eyebrows arched high into his furrowed brow. "I hope, Brooks," he went on silkily, "that you can justify this-ah-insolence of yours."

"I'm quite sure that Commander Brooks intended no insolence, sir." It was Captain Vallery speaking for the first time. "He's only expressing-----"

"Please, Captain Vallery," Starr interrupted. "I am quite capable of judging these things for myself, I think." His smile was very tight.

"Well, go on, Brooks."

Commander Brooks looked at him soberly, speculatively.

"Justify myself?" He smiled wearily. "No, sir, I don't think I can." The slight inflection of tone, the implications, were not lost on Starr, and he flushed slightly. "But I'll try to explain," continued Brooks. "It may do some good."

He sat in silence for a few seconds, elbow on the table, his hand running through the heavy silver hair, a favourite mannerism of his. Then he looked up abruptly.

"When were you last at sea, Admiral Starr?" he inquired.

"Last at sea?" Starr frowned heavily. "What the devil has that got to do with you, Brooks, or with the subject under discussion?" he asked harshly.

"A very great deal," Brooks retorted. "Would you please answer my question, Admiral?"

"I think you know quite well, Brooks," Starr replied evenly, "that I've been at Naval Operations H.Q. in London since the outbreak of war. What are you implying, sir?"