But the little cockney lost no time; fingers and pen-knife flew;

Neeland, his arms free, tore the bandage from his mouth and spat out

the wad of cloth.

"I'll do the rest," he gasped, forcing the words from his bruised and

distorted lips; "follow that man who was outside talking to you! Find

him if you can. He had been planning to blow up this ship!"

"That man, sir!"

"Yes! Did you know him?"

"Yes, sir; but I darsn't let on to him I knew him--what with 'earing

that you was in here----"

"You did know him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who is he?"

"Mr. Neeland, sir, that there cove is wot he says he is, a member of

Parliament, and his name is Wilson----"

"You're mad! He's an Eurasian, a spy; his name is Karl Breslau--I

heard it from the others--and he tried to blow up the captain's cabin

and the bridge with those three bombs lying there on the bed!"

"My God, sir--what you tell me may be so, but what I say is true, sir;

that gentleman you heard talking outside the door to me is Charles

Wilson, member of Parliament, representing Glebe and Wotherness; and I

knew it w'en I 'anded 'im the 'ot stuff!--'strewth I did, sir--and

took my chance you'd 'elp me out if I got in too rotten with the

company!"

Neeland said: "Certainly you may count on me. You're a brick!" He continued to rub

and slap and pinch his arms and legs to restore the circulation, and

finally ventured to rise to his shaky feet. The steward offered an

arm; together they hobbled to the door, summoned another steward,

placed him in charge of the room, and went on in quest of Captain

West, to whom an immediate report was now imperative.




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