“Yes; and at the time I really thought it was the professor,” admitted Jerry. “But when I think of what took place I begin to have my doubts.”
“Professor Snodgrass never acted that way before, that’s sure,” and Ned seemed siding with Jerry Hopkins. “Every other time he’s seen us he’s been tickled to death. This time——”
“He didn’t see us this time—that’s all there is to it,” declared Jerry. “Professor Snodgrass or not, whoever is in that room never looked up to see us, though he—whoever he is—may have heard us call out the name.”
“If it isn’t the professor who is it?” demanded Bob.
“Who’s the fellow I had the row with in the restaurant?” Jerry countered.
“Oh! Le cochon!” Bob exclaimed. “That’s so! He does look a lot like our friend. But not from the front, Jerry Hopkins! Not from the front!” he added quickly, as he recalled that circumstance, and the fact that this time they had had a full-face view of the man now sitting behind the closed cabin door. “The pepper-pot looks like the professor from the back view, but not from the front. We proved that several times.”
“And besides,” went on Ned, “this isn’t the mysterious cabin, either. There are no marines on guard here.”
“I grant you that,” said Jerry, and he was smiling at his two chums in a manner that, had they not been so excited, would have roused their curiosity.
“And this isn’t the same cabin, either!” reiterated Ned. “The one where the marines are on guard, and where we think the pepper-pot is held a prisoner, is on the deck below.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Jerry, and the manner of his asking made both Ned and Bob look more closely at the corridor in which they were then standing. Next they glanced at the closed door, noting the number, and with one accord they exclaimed: