"Silence, sir!" thundered the officer.
"Huh!" grunted Herc, in a low tone, however.
"As I was saying, sir, the whole thing looks, as you said, suspicious. We know that the lad was recently placed in the forward turret of the Manhattan, and would have had an opportunity to examine the breechblock of the Varian gun. He might even have made rough drawings of it."
"What you say is plausible, Captain Stirling," nodded the rear-admiral gravely.
"I don't believe a word of it!" snapped Captain Dunham hotly. "I'll stake a good deal on that youngster's honesty, and——"
"You'll win!" came a crisp voice from the rear of the room.
The officers turned, amazed, and set up a shout of astonishment as they beheld, framed in the door which they had entered noiselessly, the figures of the inventor, and, standing, cap in hand, by his side, the Dreadnought Boy, the lad to whose pluck and resourcefulness the inventor largely owed his liberty.
"I repeat it, gentlemen," went on the inventor, for it was he who had voiced the interruption; "there isn't a finer, more capable or grittier lad in the service to-day than Ned Strong of the Manhattan."
"But, but—gentlemen, pray sit down——" began the rear-admiral. "Really this is most irregular."
He sat down resignedly as the officers pressed about the inventor and Ned. In a few moments order was restored, and the two newly escaped captives were telling their story.