The purser jerked his head toward the stern of the boat. Fay followed him through the gloom. The ship was gliding by the shores of the canal. The fog was heavy—impenetrable. The siren aft the funnel blared a long-drawn warning. Bridges were swung to let the ship pass. Fisher boats were drawn out of the way.
Saidee Isaacs stood at the rail in the stern of the
freighter. Boxes, bales and crates formed a barricade between her and the cabins. She had not noticed the commotion in the forward part of the ship. Fay dismissed the purser and glided to her side.
“Come to your cabin!â€� he exclaimed bitterly. “Dutch Gus has stolen the cipher-key! He’s aboard. But I’ll get it from him!—I’m in this thing, now—all the way!â€�
“Where—when?â€� she questioned eagerly. “Checkmated?â€�
Fay stared at the sea over the stern of the ship. His face grew gloomy with thought. It came to him with the force of a blow that he had been careless in the matter—so careless that it would be very hard to explain to Sir Richard.
“Yes, he beat me to it,� he said, lowering his voice and backing against the rail. “He’s got the package that contains the key in his cabin.�
“You dropped it—lost it?â€�
Fay pressed his hand over his forehead. A stain of blood was on his fingers as he drew them away.
“It was when I went back for the bags—the thing happened, Saidee. I’m not over it yet. I got what I deserve for being so careless.â€�