“You’re too late,” hissed the burglar, making another effort to throw the boy overboard.
He lifted him above the rail and held him there suspended. Ben gave himself up for lost.
It is hard to tell how many thoughts came into his mind in the few seconds in which he felt himself at the mercy of the burly ruffian. It seemed likely that his career would then and there be cut off, in which case this story would never have been written.
But help was at hand. The door of the stateroom was thrown open, and the occupant, a strong, muscular man, weighing at least two hundred pounds, entered upon the scene.
Quickly comprehending the situation, he grasped Tom Tidd in his powerful arms, tore Ben from his clutches, and then demanded sternly, “What does all this mean?”
“This man was going to throw me into the water,” gasped Ben.
“And you deserved it, too,” growled the discomfited burglar.
“What had you done?” asked the passenger, addressing himself to Ben.
“He was getting into your stateroom through the window,” exclaimed Ben. “He had hold of your vest when I came up and tackled him.”
“Is this so? Where, then, is the vest?”