Solomon hesitated, his eyes shifting from face to face appealingly.
"Well, sir, I suspicioned as summat was wrong. I don't 'old to gettin' shipmates into 'ot water, sir, beggin' your pardon, and I says to myself, 'John Solomon, tell a lie,' just like that, sir. 'Tell a lie,' I says, 'and don't be a-gettin' of a poor shipmate into 'ot water. Do as you would be done by,' I says——"
"Confound it," exclaimed Harcourt, "tell me who you borrowed that knife from or I'll put you in irons!"
"Well, sir," sighed the supercargo, "I must say as I remembers it werry well, and werry sorry I am to 'ave to say it, Mr. Jenson; but you——"
"You lie!" screamed Jenson terribly, flinging himself forward. With unexpected agility Dr. Krausz leaped up and gripped him. "You lie! You lie! You lie!" Over and over the words were shrieked out until a torrent of German from the scientist quieted the livid-faced secretary.
It was a scene that lingered long in the mind of Hammer—stolid, pudgy Solomon sitting quietly with something like sadness in his eyes, while Jenson, an agony of dumb horror in his face, panted in the grip of the Teuton, Harcourt watching with a troubled frown, and the Arab standing back in silence.
"Ordinarily that would be good evidence enough," stated Harcourt finally. "However, it is only your word against Jenson's, Solomon, with the preponderance of evidence in your favour.
"Still, Jenson has an excellent alibi. Where were you while you were absent from the dining-saloon?"
"In me own cabin, sir," came the prompt answer. "Fixing up them accounts, sir."
"Anyone see you there?"