CHAPTER XIII
IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE
Fritz Ludwig, the tall, blond young man who earned his eighty marks per month as wireless man on the Ottilie, having eaten his dinner with the passengers of the second-cabin and smoked a meditative pipe at the door of the little coop on the after boat-deck which served him as office and bedroom, knocked out the ashes and entered his citadel to prepare for the night's business. But first he connected up his detector and snapped the receivers against his ears, just to see what might be going on. The operator on the Adriatic, a hundred miles behind them, was gossiping with Poldhu, and far ahead two boats were exchanging information about the weather. Then Ludwig glanced up quickly, for a step had sounded at the door, and he saw a man just stepping over the threshold.
"No admittance here!" he called sharply; but the man advanced another step, smiling broadly.
"My dear Fritz!" he said in German. "Do you not know me?"
And Fritz, staring upwards, and seeing his visitor's face clearly, tore off the receivers, sprang to his feet and saluted.
"Admiral Pachmann!" he gasped.
Pachmann laughed. Then he turned, closed the door, and drew the shade before the window.
"Yes, it is I; but don't shout it so loudly, Fritz. Let us sit down. I saw you at dinner to-night—yes, I, too, am of the second class!—and I trembled lest you might recognise me and shout my name out in just that fashion. So, as soon as I could, I hastened up to warn you. I am travelling incognito upon official business, and in public you are not to know me."
"I understand, Herr Admiral," said Fritz. "I shall be most careful."