Presently Raeburn nudged the fourth officer.
Strolling along the alley-way was a short, sparely built man. He was dressed in a white flannel suit with a dark red cummer-bund. He was bareheaded, and as a ray of light fell upon his features Terence could see that his were of a yellow cadaverous appearance. His hair was black, thick, and closely cut. His moustache was heavy and drooping. His eyes turned furtively from side to side as he advanced, although he kept his head as rigid as if immovably fixed to his body.
He passed by their place of concealment. Aubyn could hear his soft shoes pattering upon the deck. Presently he returned, promenading the whole length of the alley-way. Thrice he did this, then, giving a swift glance behind him, stepped into a store-room immediately opposite the companion to the greasers' and firemen's quarters, the after bulkhead of which formed with the side of the ship the recess in which the two chums lay concealed.
The fellow was breathing heavily. Through the iron partition the two watchers could hear his laboured gasps which were the result not of unusual activity but of intense mental strain.
Again Raeburn touched his companion on the shoulder. Some one else was approaching—not from the engine-room hands' quarters but along the alley-way.
It was a woman, slight of build, and in spite of the heat, closely veiled. Without hesitation she went straight to the place where the suspected man was waiting.
For ten minutes the pair talked, rapidly and in low, excited tones; then together they made their way aft.
"A rotten sell," remarked Aubyn, as soon as the coast was clear. "We came to spot a pair of conspirators—not to witness a meeting between a pair of lovers."
"Shouldn't think the woman was sweet on that chap, but there's no accounting for taste," rejoined Raeburn. "That's the fellow right enough. Did you hear what they were talking about?"
"Not I; it wasn't my business," replied Terence.