Every scrap of paper on the desk was examined; every inch of the desk’s interior was covered. Don’s own pockets were turned inside out. Frowning, Don turned to Michael Splendor, who had been watching them in silence.
“It seems to have vanished!” he declared helplessly. “That letter just isn’t here; and yet, there’s no place it could have gone....”
“Don’t be too sure, Commander!” said the cripple, calmly pointing to the half-open door. “It could have gone that way, with no more trouble than a sneak thief would take to lift it. There were several minutes, ye mind, when none of us was watching that side of the cabin. 'Tis me own fault, for I should have been on guard. Not even a Government vessel is safe from Scorpion spies!”
V
STRUCK DOWN FROM BEHIND
Like a picture ship on a blue enameled sea, the gunboat Gatoon steamed quietly on her way. Not even a ground swell disturbed the level of her white decks, or raised an extra dash of spray from her cutwater.
Yet storm and violence, in human form, were already aboard her. Within the vessel’s narrow confines, loyal officers and citizens of a great nation were pitted against the unknown agents of a fiendish power. Each side now stood on its guard, ready for the battle to open; but when or where the first blow would be struck, only the Scorpion himself could tell.
The strain of waiting was hardest, of course, upon Don and his friends, who at this moment were gathered under an awning on the Gatoon’s after deck. They knew that one or more of Scorpia’s agents were on board, disguised no doubt as members of the gunboat’s enlisted crew.
They were aware that the enemy would stop at nothing—not even at destroying the ship with every living soul—if that could be accomplished. Yet they were helpless to do a thing until trouble showed itself in visible form.
Don Winslow, standing by the after rail, had just finished telling about the spy he had almost caught listening at his cabin door. That incident fitted perfectly with the theft of Michael Splendor’s decoded letter. Unfortunately, the brief glimpse Don had had of the skulker was not enough to identify him.
“All I saw,” he admitted, in response to Captain Riggs’ query, “was a man’s white clad arm and shoulder disappearing around the corner of the bulkhead. It didn’t look like a seaman’s blouse!”