I continued my search with difficulty. The stateroom was comparatively dark, and my ears were strained to their utmost to catch the first sound of any one approaching.
The room was that belonging to the captain. Under the berth was a locker, tightly fastened. I was certain that the locker contained what I was seeking for, because it was the one likely place that such a thing would be in. But how could I open the box?
I felt in my pockets, but they were bare of everything that could be of use to me. My eyes rested on a bunch of keys hung upon a nail near by. I took them down, and tried one after another.
At length I came to the right one, and in a moment had the locker open. The box was filled with clothing, but at the side was a smaller box or pocket, and this contained letters and documents of various kinds.
I took out the entire batch and ran my eyes over the superscriptions with all haste. The letters were all addressed to Captain Hannock with but one exception.
And that exception was the letter I had received from London.
Eagerly I opened the envelope. The contents were intact, and assured of this I stuffed the precious epistle in my bosom.
I was about to restore the remaining letters to their original place when the handwriting upon several of them attracted my attention. The chirography was of a peculiarly heavy and sloping character, and I instantly recognized it as that written by my uncle!
I was almost dumfounded by my discovery. What did Mr. Stillwell and Captain Hannock have in common?
For a moment I hesitated about opening the letters. Then I reflected that both of the men were plotting against my welfare, and I opened one of the epistles without any further compunction.