Beneath the mask of regret Jorkler was smiling to himself; from which it was evident that the mysterious "thing" that had excited his victim's curiosity was something of great importance, since Jorkler put its value above that of the life of a shipmate.
He was a firm believer in the adage, "Dead men tell no tales."
On the following day the county coroner and twelve good men and true assembled, as the law directs, to inquire into the manner of Leading Stoker Smith's death.
Although not knowing the difference between a derrick and a hand spike, a whip or a tackle, they listened with an air of profound wisdom to the engineer-lieutenant's technical explanations. They heard Stoker Jorkler's account, although most of his sentences were Dutch to the Highlanders who formed the jury. They accepted the commander's statement that everything had been done to safeguard the interests of the crew, and, satisfied, returned a verdict of Accidental Death.
Leading Stoker Smith received the only salute to which a lower deck man is entitled—three volleys over his grave; and the "thing" still remained locked away in Rhino Jorkler's ditty-box.
CHAPTER III
GREENWOOD SENIOR'S DISCOVERY
Early on the following afternoon a train in connection with the night express for King's Cross arrived at Auldhaig station from Edinburgh.
Amongst the passengers were Mr. Theodore Greenwood and his daughter Doris. The former's object in making the long and tedious journey from Devonshire to the bleak north-east coast of Scotland was twofold. He wanted to hand his daughter over safely to the Naval Hospital—and this in spite of the nineteen-year-old young lady's assurances that she was quite capable of travelling alone. He also thought that there might be a possibility of seeing Eric, since he knew that the "Pompey's" base was at Auldhaig. Notwithstanding the fact that the Assistant Paymaster R.N.R. had studiously adhered to the regulations and had made no mention of where the ship was or what she was doing, that information had been forthcoming.