\"Iassureyouitisn’tlate。It’sdarkatsix，wedinedbeforeseven，thatmakesthenightlongandIamnotaverygoodsleeper；thatis，Icannotgotosleeptilllateinthenight。\"
\"Ienvyyou，\"saidMr。Travers，speakingwithasortofdrowsyapathy。\"Iamalwaysdroppingoffandtheawakeningsarehorrible。\"
D’Alcacer，raisinghiseyes，noticedthatMrs。TraversandLingardhadvanishedfromthelight。Theyhadgonetotherailwhered’Alcacercouldnotseethem。SomepitymingledwithhisvexationatMr。Travers’snatchywakefulness。Therewassomethingweirdabouttheman，hereflected。\"Jorgenson，\"hebeganaloud。
\"What’sthat？\"snappedMr。Travers。
\"It’sthenameofthatlankyoldstore—keeperwhoisalwaysaboutthedecks。\"