Three pairs of eyes met in the shining glass.
The smile left the face reflected from behind.
The “sailor” knew and was known. His right hand was lifted carelessly to his lips, and a finger lingered there for a scant second.
The understanding was complete.
CHAPTER XLVII.
THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE.
The boys were just aching in spirit for even a word with the supposed sailor, safely out of range of the lynx-eyed Roque, but the latter, after the experience in Kiel, stuck closer than a burr to his charges.
The face had passed from the mirror, and the owner of the smiling countenance sauntered through the street door of the café, mingling with many of his kind, smoking and chatting on the sidewalk.
“How will we make it?” tapped Billy on the table.
“Do not know,” was Henri’s answering tap.