THE SUBMARINE EAR
Almost before we knew it the speed demon had disappeared beyond the circle of the flares.
“Suspiciously near the Sybarite,” remarked Kennedy, under his breath, watching the scout cruiser to the last moment as she ran away.
I wondered whether he meant that the swift little motor-boat might have some connection with Shelby Maddox and his new activities, but I said nothing, for Kennedy’s attention was riveted on the wake left by the boat. I looked, too, and could have sworn that there was something moving in the opposite direction to that taken by the boat. What could it be?
On the end of the dock was an incandescent lamp. Craig unscrewed the bulb and inserted another connection in the bulb socket, an insulated cable that led down to the apparatus on the float over which his assistant was still working.
By this time quite a crowd had collected on the dock, and on the float, watching us.
“Burke,” ordered Kennedy, “will you and Jameson make the people stand back? We can’t do anything with so many around.”
As we pressed the new-comers back I saw that among them was Paquita. Though I looked, I could not discover Sanchez, but thought nothing of it, for there were so many about that it would have been hard to find any particular person.
“If you will please stand back,” I implored, trying to keep the curious from almost swamping the float, “you will all be able to see what is going on just as well and, besides, it will be a great deal safer—providing there is an explosion,” I added as a happy afterthought, although I had almost as vague an idea what Kennedy was up to as any of them.
The words had the effect I intended. The crowd gave way, not only willing, but almost in panic.