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couple of minutes, Vincent, and what are you looking so pleased about?'

    'I really don't know how you do it, sir. Incredible. I don't suppose you have any Scottish blood?'

    'Not a drop, as far as I'm aware. Am I supposed to be following you, Number One?'

    'I thought maybe the second sight. You were right. A classic Greek beauty. Irene. Miss Charial, that is. Odd, mind you, blonde as they come. I thought all those warm-blooded young Latin ladies had hair as black as a raven's wing.'

    'It's the sheltered life you lead, Vincent. You should go to Andalucia some day. Seville. On one street corner a dusky Moorish maiden, the next a Nordic blonde. We'll discuss pigmentation some other time. What did you learn?'

    'Enough, I hope. It's an art, sir, this casual and inconsequential approach. The questioning, I mean. She seems honest and open enough, not ingenuous, if you know what I mean, but quite straightforward. Certainly didn't give the impression of having anything to hide. Says she doesn't know the engine-room well but has been there a couple of times. We came to the question of fuel oil - I was just wondering out loud, natural curiosity, I hope she thought - as to what could have caused the explosion. Seems I was wrong when I said there were just two common ways of arranging fuel and water tanks. Seems there's a third. Two big tanks on either side of the engine, one fuel, one water. How big, I don't know, she was a bit vague about that  --  no reason why she should know - but at least thousands of litres, she says. If there was a spare fuel tank she didn't know about it. I look forward, sir, to hearing Mr Andropulos justifying his decision not to abandon ship.'

    'So do I. Should be interesting. Anyway, congratulations. A good job.'

    'No hardship, sir.' Van Gelder scanned the sea around. Odd, don't you think, sir? I mean, are we the only ones who heard the SOS? I would have thought the horizon would have been black with converging vessels by this time.'

    'Not so strange, really. Nearly all the vessels around at this rime of year are private yachts and fishermen. Lots of them don't carry any radio at all and even those who do almost certainly wouldn't be permanently tuned to the distress frequency.'

    'But we are.'

    'This time I'm ahead of you. The Delos - or at least Andropulos - knew that we would be permanently tuned to the distress frequency, that we are automatically alerted by bell or buzzer whenever the distress frequency is energized. This presupposes two things. He knew we were a naval vessel and he also knew that we were in the vicinity.'

    'You realize what you are saying, sir? Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound that way. But the implications, sir. I must say I really don't like those at all.'

    'Neither do I. Opens up all sorts of avenues of interesting speculation, doesn't it?' He turned as McKenzie came on to the bridge: 'And how are our oil-stained survivors, Chief?'

    'Clean, sir. And in dry clothes, I don't think any of them will make the list of the ten best-dressed men.' He looked at Van Gelder. 'I gather you didn't have too much time, sir, for the selection and careful matching up of clothes. They're a bit of an odd sight, I must say, but respectable enough. I knew you would want to see them, Captain  --  Mr Andropulos seems very anxious to see you  --  and I know you don't like unauthorized people on the bridge so I took the liberty of putting the four gentlemen and the two young ladies in the wardroom. I hope that's all right, sir.'

    'Fine. You might ask the Surgeon Commander and Lieutenant Denholm to join us there. And send a couple of your boys up here to keep a lookout. Who knows, our radar might have a day off.'

    The six survivors from the Delos were standing around rather awkwardly, not talking, when Talbot and Van Gelder reached the wardroom. The four men, as McKenzie had suggested, did present rather an odd spectacle. They looked rather as if they had just raided an old clothes shop, few