The creak of a door startled both.
The man seemed startled.
He turned his head, then came to his feet with a hissing cry.
He was peering into the muzzle of a glistening revolver, behind which stood the form of our Yankee friend.
The light in the room was not brilliant, yet faces were plainly discernible.
"August Bordine, I arrest you for the murder of Victoria Vane!" cried the
Yankee, in an awful voice.
CHAPTER V.
THE TRAMP ON DECK.
For full a minute not a word passed between the two men. The sodden eyes of the tramp were fixed in a sullen gaze on the face of Ransom Vane.
"What do you want here?" finally demanded Vane in a harsh voice.