'Is what, Mr Paine?' enquired Drinkwater, pulling on the full dress coat that he had disencumbered himself of when he had returned from the flagship. 'Pray do not keep me in suspense.'

'Well it's English, sir.'

'English?'

'But Mr Marlowe says the shako ain't English, sir ...'

But Drinkwater was not listening, he was seized by the sudden thought his visitor might be his own brother who had long been a cavalry officer in the Russian service who had now come to pay him a nocturnal visit. He was certain Edward would be serving on the staff of General Vorontzoff who, Drinkwater had heard, was already in Paris. He swallowed the curse that almost escaped his lips and, doubling his queue, ordered the midshipman to bring the stranger down to the cabin. While he waited, Drinkwater lit more candles and washed his mouth out with a half-glass of wine.

Edward's appearance at this time would be damnably embarrassing. A cold and fearful apprehension formed around Drinkwater's heart. Once, long ago, he had helped Edward escape from England and a conviction for murder.

Just as this terrible thought brought the sweat out on Drinkwater's brow and caused his blood to run cold, Midshipman Paine's face reappeared.

'Well, bring the fellow in, Mr Paine ...'

'He won't come, sir. Says he wishes you to wait upon him on the quarterdeck.'

'The devil he does! Well, Mr Paine, what d'you make of the fellow, eh?' The idea the stranger was Edward was swept aside by the conviction that this was one of His Royal Highness's daft pranks. This thought was given greater credibility by Mr Paine's next remark.

'Begging your pardon, sir, I told you the officer was speaking English, but what I didn't say was that I thought the officer', Paine paused, then went on, 'might be a woman, sir.'

'You thought the ... Well, well, we had better go and see ...'