You couldn't help me, could you--couldn't give me something to keep my head straight ?" The need of my keeping his head straight that he might the easier rob our fellow-passengers raised a pretty question of ethics.

I meanly dodged it.

I told him professional etiquette required I should leave him to the ship's surgeon.
"But I don't know HIM," he protested.
Mindful of the use he had made of my name, I objected strenuously: "Well, you certainly don't know me." My resentment obviously puzzled him.
"I know who you ARE," he returned.

"You and I--" With a deprecatory gesture, as though good taste forbade him saying who we were, he stopped.

"But the ship's surgeon!" he protested, "he's an awful bounder! Besides," he added quite simply, "he's watching me." "As a doctor," I asked, "or watching you play cards ?" "Play cards," the young man answered.