Why he hung on to the attaché-case he hardly knew. Whatever there was within it was evidently now no secret to the directing spirits behind the s.s. Zug. Even if Harborough's charts and plans were still inside the case, there was every reason to suppose that they had been duly inspected and the information they contained committed to memory. Sir Hugh knew the locality of the wreck, even without the aid of the stolen documents, so, now that the mischief was done, there could be little good served by regaining them.
The attaché-case was well made and the lid fitted closely; consequently it possessed a considerable amount of buoyancy. On coming to the surface Villiers found that he could support himself by the case without much effort, and thus give himself time to take stock of his surroundings.
Fifty yards away floated the life-buoy. Having assured himself of his position, the swimmer devoted his attention to the Zug. Already she was a good cable's length away, and holding on without apparently altering course. Five or six of the crew were standing right aft, and Villiers fancied that he caught the dull glint of the barrel of a rifle.
"They'll put about," he thought, "and either run me down or else put a bullet through my head if they spot me. I don't think they do, although I'm right in the glare of the sun. I'll keep clear of that buoy for a time, though."
Which was sound logic. The white-painted buoy, bobbing up and down over the crests of the waves, was a fairly-conspicuous object—as it was intended to be. But Jack, bareheaded and almost motionless, ran very little risk of being spotted by the crew of the rapidly-receding vessel.
But, contrary to his expectations, the Zug neither altered course nor did her crew open fire. She held on, leaving Villiers to his fate.
"Now for it," he muttered, and, turning on his back and still grasping the recovered attaché-case, he made toward the buoy.