They saluted and withdrew.
Pachmann turned to a leisurely examination of the suit-cases. They were unlocked, and he soon found the queer box with sides of glass lined with tin-foil. He snatched it up eagerly, but after a glance at it, his face fell.
"So he was telling the truth!" he muttered. "Well, so much the worse for him!"
Nevertheless he examined the box attentively, with minute concentration, noting the arrangement of the interior plates, the scheme of wiring—each detail. Then, with it in his hand, he left the room, saw that his men were on guard, mounted to the upper story, unbolted a door there and entered. Closing the door carefully behind him, he switched on the lights, placed the box on the table, and entered the room beyond. Here, too, he turned on the lights, and stood for a moment contemplating the occupant of the bed, who returned his gaze steadily, with glittering eyes.
"You are awake, then, my dear Vard?" said the Admiral, at last.
"As you see."
"You are feeling better, I trust?"
"I am quite well."
"You have had dinner?"
"I cared for none."