Ned Slade felt himself being pulled along the deck of the transport in the firm grip of a man who, for the moment, he believed to be insane. The quick grasp of the pepper-pot and his sudden motion in dragging Ned along had, for the time being, deprived the lad of his power of resistance. But it came back to him quickly enough, and, suspecting some sinister design on the part of his captor, he braced himself, pulled his hands away, and demanded:
“What does this mean? What are you trying to do, anyhow? Isn’t it enough for you to have disabled this ship, and so, indirectly, have caused the collision, without trying anything more?”
“Don’t speak so loudly! Come with me! To my cabin! I can explain everything!” hoarsely whispered the little man, variously dubbed the pepper-pot, from his quick, impulsive way, and “le cochon,” a name given by Marie, the restaurant girl.
“Not much!” cried Ned. “I see your game! You want to get rid of me as, perhaps by accident, you got rid of Bob, Jerry, and Professor Snodgrass!”
“Ah! Professor Snodgrass! He—he is impossible! A mere dabbler! A charlatan!” cried the other, with something of his former manner. “I alone hold the secret! I shall give it to the world! Now that he is gone, I can work freely and openly. I will redouble my efforts! I will beat him!” His voice was triumphant.
“Yes, beat him, coward, now that he’s gone!” cried Ned. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you! I’m going to tell——”
Ned swung aside and was going to turn back to avoid what he thought was a lunge on the part of the strange man, a lunge that, the lad thought, meant danger, when he collided with some one hurrying along the passage.
There were many mutual grunts, for the impact had not been a gentle one, and, half dazed, Ned looked up to observe Captain Munson.
“Oh!” exclaimed Ned.