The cabin was just as we had left it, our shore clothes lying in disorder on the bunks, a locker or two half open.
“Well, I wonder what they did down here,” said Davies.
For my part I went straight to the bookshelf.
“Does anything strike you about this?” I asked, kneeling on the sofa.
“Logbook’s shifted,” said Davies. “I’ll swear it was at the end before.”
“That doesn’t matter. Anything else?”
“By Jove!—where’s Dollmann’s book?”
“It’s here all right, but not where it should be.” I had been reading it, you remember, overnight, and in the morning had replaced it in full view among the other books. I now found it behind them, in a wrenched attitude, which showed that someone who had no time to spare had pushed it roughly inwards.
“What do you make of that?” said Davies.
He produced long drinks, and we allowed ourselves ten minutes of absolute rest, stretched at full length on the sofas.