“Didn’t I understand you had a surprise in store for us?” asked Mr. Henderson. “What was it, that canvas camouflage?”
“Not a bit of it!” declared Rawlins. “It’s down below. Come along and have a look at it.”
Descending into the submarine, Rawlins led the way through the narrow passage past the engine room and stopped before a small iron door. “Be prepared for a jolt!” he warned them and as he spoke threw the door open.
As the two men glanced within they fairly jumped and both uttered involuntary cries of utter amazement. Seated upon a bunk in the small steel walled room was a man and no second glance was needed to recognize him. It was Smernoff!
But what a changed Smernoff! No longer did the small piglike eyes glare defiance and hatred at the Americans. His head was bowed upon his chest, his mouth, once so hard and cruel, drooped at the corners, his face was lined and seamed and his eyes held a far-away, wistful look.
“Where did he come from?” exclaimed Mr. Henderson, when he recovered from his surprise at this totally unexpected and almost miraculous reappearance of the Russian.
“And what on earth’s happened to him?” added Mr. Pauling. “Why, the fellow looks absolutely tamed and cowed—in fact broken. What have you done to him?”
“He’s tame all right,” replied Rawlins. “But we haven’t done a thing to him—except keep him locked up until we had orders from you. He’s no longer either an enemy or a ‘red,’ Mr. Pauling.”
“Well, you’re a most surprising man—I don’t wonder your darky caretakers believe you are in league with the devil—and you speak in riddles. Come, what’s the story? Why is this fellow so changed and what on earth do you mean when you say he’s no longer a ‘red’ or an enemy?”
But before Rawlins could reply a deep voice came from the room and with a start Mr. Pauling whirled about to find that Smernoff was speaking; and in English.