“Ah,” he said, picking up the book. “You're a great one for your book, I see. There's very good reading in a book like that.”
“Yes,” I said, looking at the mended strap. “There is. How very neatly you've mended the strap, sir. Thank you very much.”
He looked at me with a look which said, very plainly, “You've got a fine nerve, my lad, to pretend in that way.”
I could see from his manner during the next few minutes that he wished to keep me from examining the satchel flap. No doubt he thought that I was on tenter-hooks all the time, to look to see if the precious letters had been disturbed. At last, in a very easy way, after slinging the strap round my shoulder, I pulled out my handkerchief, intending to put it into the satchel as into an extra pocket.
“I'm going up on deck, sir,” I said. “May I take the book with me?”
As he said that I might, I swiftly opened the satchel, to pop the book in. I could feel that he watched my face mighty narrowly all the time. No doubt I looked guilty enough to convince him of his cleverness. I had no more than a second's peep at the flap, but that was quite enough to show me that it had been tampered with. I had finished off my work that morning with an even neatness. The bold Captain Barlow had left two ends of thread sticking out from the place where he had ended his stitch. Besides, my thread had been soaped, to make it work more easily. The thread in the flap now was plainly not soaped; it was fibrous to the touch, not sleeked down, as mine had been.
When I went on deck, I found the ship driving fast down Channel, making an excellent passage. I took up my place by the mizzen-rigging, near which there were no seamen at work, so that I could puzzle out a new hiding-place for my letters. I noticed, as I stood there, that some men were getting a boat over the side. It seemed a queer thing to be doing in the Channel, so far from the port to which we were bound; but I did not pay much attention to it at the time, as I was very anxious. I was wondering what in the world I could do with the pistol cartridges which I had made that morning. I feared Aurelia. For all that I could tell she was looking at me as I stood there, guessing, from my face, that I had other letters upon me. It did not occur to me that my anxiety might be taken for grief at having the satchel searched. At last it came into my head that Aurelia, if she were in the ship, would follow up that morning's work promptly, before I could devise a fresh hiding-place. At any rate I felt pretty sure that I should not be much out of that observation until the night. It came into my head that the next attack would be upon my boots; for in those days secret agents frequently hid their papers above a false boot-sole, or stitched them into the double leather where the beckets, or handles, joined the leg of the boot at the rim.
Sure enough, I had not been very long on deck when the ship's boy appeared before me. He was an abject looking lad, like most ship's boys. I suppose no one would become a ship's boy until he had proved himself unfit for life anywhere else. Personally, I had rather be a desert savage than a ship's boy. My experience on La Reina was enough to sicken me of such a life forever. This barquentine's boy came up to me, as I have said.
“Sir,” he said, “can I take away your boots to black, please?”
“No,” I answered, “my boots don't want blacking. I grease them myself.”