The voice which spoke those two words was Don’s; yet there was a strange note in it, which shocked everyone in the cabin to attention.
“You see,” it continued hollowly, “I am not Don Winslow!”
“OH!”
Mercedes’ shriek cut the horrified silence like a knife. All at once she was beside the young man, gazing fixedly into his eyes, as if to read the brain behind them. While the others watched her, fascinated, she stepped slowly back.
“No! No!” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “You are not Don. Oh! What right have you....”
“Skipper!” pleaded Red Pennington, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on back to your berth! I was afraid that would get you feverish.... Captain Riggs, help me take him—”
“WAIT, GENTLEMEN!” cried the young officer rising suddenly to his feet. “I am sorry to distress you, but I have been simply obeying orders. Commander Winslow is standing there in the doorway!”
Instinctively all eyes followed his pointing finger, only to stare in stark unbelief.
There could not be two Don Winslows. Yet there in the doorway stood the young officer’s double, complete in every detail. Even the paleness and the white bandage about the temple were reproduced in each figure.
“It’s a trick!” cried Captain Riggs hoarsely. “The Scorpion has hypnotized us—or tried to! But there’s one way to break any spell!”