"The man will notice that the moment he comes into the cabin," objected O'Hara.
For answer, Denbigh crossed over to Stirling's cot, placed the bolster longwise and covered it with the blankets. Then, partly drawing the curtains, he stood back and surveyed the result of his handiwork.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed. "It would take a lynx-eyed detective to spot the game, especially when the port-hole is opened, because the bunk is dead against the light. Let's turn in. Old Fritz will smell a rat if he finds us up and dressed."
The two subs had barely settled themselves in their bunks and had switched off the light, when a key clicked in the lock and the German sailor deputed to attend to them stumbled in.
He was a taciturn fellow. Perhaps it was because he understood no word of English, and was unaware of the fact that Denbigh spoke German. He had, however, a habit of conversing with himself during the performance of his duties, and more than once Denbigh picked up information from the fellow's unguarded babbling.
This time Fritz was silent. Setting down a jug of hot water, he unlocked and opened the port-hole.
Having washed, shaved, and dressed, Denbigh and O'Hara made their way to the cabin in which was served their meals. Covers for three lay on the table. The steward was standing by in his customary manner.
Without a word the subs seated themselves. Presently Fritz came in to deliver a message from one of the ship's officers.
"Where's the third Englander?" asked the steward.
Apparently Fritz was fond of a joke at the messman's expense. Without a word he stooped and looked under the table; then drawing himself up, he replied: