“Captain Horst!” said Jensen, with sternly level authority. “Be good enough to sit down and remain quiet. All matters relating to the Gloucester City come within my province.”
Horst, his arms up as though to guard himself, went slowly backward to his seat but did not sit. There was madness in his eyes. “How could they know?” he said to himself in a sharp-breathed whisper, “—the exact words!——”
“What do you mean?” queried Lyngstrand, curiously. Horst replied without thinking, more to himself than to his questioner.
“The exact words of her call for help—a year ago! My wireless picked it up after we had left her——” He stopped suddenly, realized that he had betrayed himself.
“Then——!” cried Lyngstrand, jumping up from his seat and taking a step forward. His eyes, full of menace, searched the ex-U-boat commander’s face.
“Be quiet—both of you!” commanded Jensen, holding up his hand. The regular succession of raps had commenced again. Jensen listened to them, nodded. Then he himself rapped a message in English on the table—“who are you?”
Horst and Lyngstrand listened in dead silence as the answer spelled itself out upon the table.
“h-e-n-r-y s-m-i-t-h w-i-r-e-l-e-s-s o-p-e-r-a-t-o-r g-l-o-u-c-e-s-t-e-r c-i-t-y.”
Jensen turned a glance of wonderment to his comrade. Horst, reading the message as currently as the others, looked as though about to faint.
“Stop it!” he said, hoarsely. “Stop it!”