“You may have, and, again, you may have merely got a whiff of a bad, cheap cigar. That’s no evidence, so far. If we went to the captain with that information he’d only laugh at us.
“Besides,” went on Jerry, “you’ve got to have motives for suspecting any one, even le cochon. And you can be pretty sure he didn’t get on board this troopship unless he was well vouched for. They aren’t taking any chances.”
“Well, maybe I’m imagining a whole lot,” admitted Ned. “Only I would like to know who that fellow is, what his game is, and why he seems to have such a grudge against our Professor Snodgrass.”
“Yes, I’d like the answer to those questions myself,” admitted Jerry. “But to get at them I don’t just feel like going to the Sherman’s captain and telling him we suspect the pepper-pot of being a German spy.”
“No,” assented Ned slowly, “I don’t suppose we can do that. But I’m going to keep my eyes open.”
“There wasn’t a sign of anything wrong when we came back through the passage where we met that duck,” remarked Bob.
“No. But it still smelled mighty queer,” stated Ned.
“It always will so near the hospital rooms,” suggested Jerry. “The odor of iodoform is very lingering.”
“Well, maybe it was that,” agreed Ned. “But I’m going to keep my eyes open.”
“Yes, we can all do that,” came from Jerry. “And now let’s get in line for the semi-occasional feed. It’s about due, I think.”