Tom breathed hard, but submitted to his fate in silence. Dixon looked up, listening intently. Tom feared that Wallion had betrayed himself by some impetuous movement in the boat, but Dixon was not looking in its direction. The wireless installation stood out against the bright, blue sky, and an intermittent crackling sound made itself plainly heard from above. Dixon ran up the stairs.
"What the devil are you doing, Moreland?" he shouted. "Are you mad?"
"Moreland is not here," answered the captain from the bridge. "He went to bed about eleven, Mr. Dixon."
The wireless had stopped short, Dixon looked up at the cables in anger and consternation.
"Who is sending a message?" he asked.
"Don't know," said the captain. "Weston says that two messages were sent during the night, we thought it might be Mr. Ferail."
"Confound it all," roared Dixon, white with fury. "Call out the crew, there is a spy on board."
A whistle sounded and the captain rushed up to the wireless room. Dixon pushed Tom back into the corridor, gave him a look which boded no good, and asked: "Who was with you?"
"I shan't tell you," Tom answered. He strongly suspected that Wallion had been in the wireless room, and he was fully determined not to admit anything.
"Was it McTuft?"