Just as Whittinghame, who was the last to leave, was backing out of the door—for he gave Durango no chance of making a sudden dash—the Mexican found his tongue.
"Curse you, Whittinghame!" he shouted with a torrent of oaths. "If I had thrown those plans overboard instead of stowing them in under the boat's fore-deck, I'd have the laugh of you yet."
Vaughan Whittinghame made no reply, but pushing Dacres across the threshold he closed and relocked the door.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed delightedly. "Durango's let the cat out of the bag. He imagines that we have already found the plans."
"Let's hope it won't be long before we do," rejoined the sub, and the three men hastened to search the hull of the flying-boat.
The "Meteor's" speed was materially reduced to enable the searchers to go on deck, where the boat was made fast to four strong ring-bolts.
Leaping over her coamings Dacres dived under the fore-deck. The place had already been cleared out, but on each side a skirting had been fastened to the ribs to within a foot of the deck-beams.
The sub thrust his hand into one of the spaces thus formed. He could feel nothing. The second gave no better result, but in the third his fingers came in contact with some moist paper.
Carefully withdrawing his band the sub found that he had recovered a bundle of documents tied with red tape. Although damp they were little the worse for their adventures in sea and air.
"Hurrah!" shouted Dacres. "We've discovered the object of our search, sir. Here are the submarine plans."