"Now I'll see what's aft," declared the boarding officer.
Again there was nothing to elicit suspicion, but as Kenneth passed along the main deck he saw something covered by a tarpaulin. Lifting one comer, there was what appeared to be a huge pile of evergreens.
"What's that for?" he inquired. "It's rather too early for Christmas."
"Ja, Herr Kapitan," agreed the German. "Dese are for—how you call it?—Ach, I haf it: wreaths. It is a Zherman officer that vos died, an' dese are tribute from der Vaderland."
"Then he must be deeply lamented," thought Kenneth, as he moved on. Then, filled with well-grounded suspicion, he stopped abruptly.
"Just shift those things," he ordered, addressing the two members of the M.L.'s crew. "It would be well to see if anything's underneath, although Fritz would, I take it, choose a craftier hiding-place."
The men obeyed, the German officer making no protest. They were genuine evergreens, and on plucking a leaf Kenneth found that the sap was still fresh.
"All right. Put them back and carry on," he ordered.
Meanwhile, Karl von Preussen—spy, ex-officer of the Prussian Guards, and now wearing a naval uniform—was holding Cumberleigh in conversation.
"Ah, good morning, Cumberleigh," he exclaimed with all the assurance possible, and extended his right hand. "Delighted to see you again."