Had the unter-leutnant gone aft as soon as he commenced his investigations, he might have noticed the tell-tale prints of wet feet, left by Denbigh and his chum as they scurried to the cabin. By this time the marks had almost vanished. The slight traces of dampness that remained were hardly noticeable in the gloom, for it was still dark, and 'tween decks the lantern gave but a feeble glimmer.
Klick inserted his key into the lock and threw open the door. The cabin was in darkness, until one of his men flashed a lantern into it. The unter-leutnant sniffed suspiciously.
"Anyone awake?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Armstrong.
"You haf been a lamp burning," said Kaspar Klick accusingly. "It is again der regulations."
Armstrong's reply told the listening subs that he was "up to snuff". The prize-master had sniffed the odour of burnt cork; but since he had suggested that it was the smell of an extinguished oil-lamp, the mate did not contradict.
"Yes," he replied. "Mr. O'Hara hasn't been very well. I had to give him some quinine, and a fellow must have a light to see that he is giving the right dose."
"Ach! Is dat so?" asked the unter-leutnant. "Now, tell me dis. Herr O'Hara, did he go on deck since last hour ago?"
"No," replied Armstrong with perfect truthfulness. "I am certain he didn't. I'm a very light sleeper, and if he had moved I should have heard. Besides, how could he get out without a key?" asked the mate with well-feigned innocence.
"I tell you dis——" began Klick; but before he could carry out his intention a loud shout of "Wer da?" came from the deck, followed by an unintelligible hail, coming from some distance down the river.