“It would seem so,” was his commander’s reply, “still we must be positive.” He turned again to the sailor. “Is it not true,” he asked, “that only a few moments ago you attacked Mr. Chadwick, and that your wounded hand is the result of a blow from his revolver?”
The sailor looked at his commander in surprise, that seemed genuine enough.
“No, sir,” he replied quietly.
“Then you deny you are a German spy?” asked Lord Hastings.
The sailor started back, and his face turned red.
“A spy, sir!” he cried. “Me a spy? Why if there is one country under the sun for which I would not turn a hand, it is Germany.”
“Circumstances are much against you, in spite of your protestations of innocence,” said Lord Hastings gravely.
“But Smith, the engineer, can vouch for me, sir, and so can Black, who was in the engine room when I injured my hand. Call them, sir.”
“Well, I’ll call them,” said Lord Hastings, “but I doubt if it will do any good.”
At a command from Lord Hastings the engineer and a sailor named Black were sent into the room.