“Did you hear them?” he asked the moment he entered the door.
“No, hear who?” demanded Mr. Henderson.
“Those Bolsheviks,” replied Rawlins, “I heard ’em not five minutes ago. I didn’t dare call you or say anything for fear they’d hear me and I was nervous as a cat fearing you fellows might call into the transmitter and they’d hear.”
“We’ve been right at the instruments and didn’t hear a thing,” declared Tom. “Gosh, but it’s funny you got ’em and we didn’t.”
“They were pretty faint and far off,” said Rawlins. “Maybe they were out of your range.”
“No, I guess it’s that same old effect of the sounds inside the helmet,” said Tom. “Remember, up in New York, we could always hear under water better than ashore.”
“Well, I don’t think it makes much difference,” declared Mr. Pauling, “but it proves they’re here or near here. You’d better take some one ashore with you to-night, Rawlins. Whom would you select?”
“Guess it’ll have to be Smernoff,” replied Rawlins. “I’ll need some one who can savvy Russian more than anything else.”
“Do you think you can trust him?” asked Mr. Henderson. “You’re taking a risk with him alone on that Cay in the dark and with his old-time friends and comrades there.”
“Sure, I’m taking a risk,” agreed Rawlins with a grin, “but a diver’s always taking risks—been taking them ever since I was knee high—and a few more or less don’t cut any ice. Anyway, I don’t believe Smernoff will turn traitor. You see, he looks upon me as a sort of hero—saving his life and all, and besides, he’s as keen on evening up scores with this bunch as any of us. He’s got everything to win and nothing to lose by betting on us and my experience is that if it’s an even toss up with a fellow he’ll chip in with the side that he’ll gain the most with.”