"I cannot see him."
"Fool!" ejaculated the steward. "Don't try to be an idiot; you are one already. Where is the schwein-hund?"
"Too lazy to get up and have his breakfast, I suppose," replied Fritz indifferently. "He was fast asleep when I went in."
Having asked in broken English if the subs required anything further, and receiving a negative reply, the steward went out.
"Deucedly strange," said Denbigh in a low voice. "Those fellows know nothing. I wonder if von Riesser and his cheerful ober-leutnant have been up to mischief."
It was not until one bell in the forenoon watch that Stirling's absence was discovered. Denbigh and O'Hara were immediately sent for and closely questioned.
The interview was unsatisfactory, the British officers affecting ignorance of the time of their comrade's disappearance; while von Riesser, rightly guessing that Denbigh and O'Hara imagined he was responsible and was trying to cloak suspicion, was so emphatic in his assurances that he knew nothing of Stirling's whereabouts that his very earnestness caused the subs to misjudge him.
A thorough search was instituted, but, naturally, without the hoped-for result. Reluctantly, Denbigh and O'Hara came to the conclusion that their chum had either fallen in or had been thrown overboard.
Kapitan von Riesser was genuinely perturbed, not on account of the loss of the British officer, but for the additional complication that might ensue if the Pelikan should be captured. The idea of being taken prisoner obsessed the German commander. It loomed up in front of him like a gaunt spectre day and night. It spoke volumes for the fact that Great Britain was Mistress of the Seas.
He showed little or no elation at having evaded the cruiser that had doggedly held in pursuit until long after midnight. His pessimism was beginning to become infectious. Officers and men were downcast. Several times on the lower deck remarks were heard to the effect that it was an unlucky day when the Pelikan escaped from her nominal state of internment.