Crang snarled under his breath.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” inquired the man.
“Nothing!” said Crang. “I'm much obliged to you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the man, and went on along the deck.
Crang returned to his bunk and sat down again on its edge. He could still see the reflection of the shore lights. This seemed to obsess him. He kept staring out through the window. Suddenly he chuckled hoarsely—and then, as suddenly, his fist clenched and he shook it in the air.
“Another hour, eh?” he muttered. “Then, I'll get you yet, Bruce—ha, ha, I'll get you yet! But I'll make sure of Claire first this time! That's where I made the mistake—but Doctor Sydney Angus Crang doesn't make two mistakes alike!”
He relapsed into silent meditation. At the end of five minutes he spoke again.
“I'm a clever man,” said Doctor Crang between his teeth. “First Claire—then you, Bruce. And I'll take good care that you know nothing, Mr. John Bruce—not this time—not until it is too late—both ways! I'll show you! I'll teach you to pit your clumsy wits against me!”
He got up from the bunk and turned on a single incandescent light. Bruce had thrown the key in through the window, he remembered. Yes, there it was on the floor! He picked it up; and quickly and methodically he began to work now. He gathered together the pieces of rope with which he had been bound, tucked them under his coat, and running to the window, thrust his head outside again. The deck was clear, there was not a soul in sight. He unlocked the door now, stepped noiselessly out on the deck, dropped the pieces of rope overboard, and then, returning to the cabin, smiled ironically as he made a mental note of the number on the cabin door.
“H-14,” observed Doctor Crang grimly. “Quite so—H-14!”