“Go and tell him to come here,” ordered Phil, turning to one of the millwrights.
In a moment the man returned, and reported that Strengel claimed to be too busy to come just then.
With an expressive glance at his friend, Phil left the engine-room, and Serge followed him. A minute later, in the resistless grasp of the two athletic young fellows, Mr. Strengel was being rushed along the deck so rapidly as to suggest that he had very imperative business in the engine-room.
“[Here], gentlemen, [is the man who did that thing]!” cried Phil, as he gave the breathless and trembling wretch a shove that landed him in a corner.
[“HERE IS THE MAN WHO DID THAT THING”]
“So help me, Mr. Ryder—” he began, abjectly.
“Shut up!” shouted Phil, “and don’t you dare speak again until you are spoken to. There is no doubt of his guilt, gentlemen, for I saw him loosening those bolts as plainly as I see him now, when I came down here awhile ago to make ready for starting. He did not see me, for I was in darkness, while he worked by lantern-light. So I watched him for a full minute while he prepared this death-trap for the rest of us. No wonder he has sought the most distant and safest part of the ship ever since.
“Moreover, it is this man who, on two previous occasions, has attempted to cripple our machinery. He is employed by the old company to injure and delay this expedition by every possible means. From the evidence before us it looks as though he would not hesitate to commit murder to accomplish his designs. Now, gentlemen, what, in your opinion, ought to be done with such a bit of scum?”
“Shoot him! Throw him overboard!” suggested two of the little group in a breath, while Serge said nothing, but tightened his clutch of the prisoner’s collar ominously.