"Only a German torpedo boat," replied the harbourmaster. "She is lying off the Dollart, though why I cannot make out."
"Nothing out of the way, is it?" asked Stirling. "It's German territory across the Dollart, isn't it?"
"Aye," replied Van Wyk. "But it is out of the common for a vessel of war to remain there. We are sending out a tug to see if she requires assistance. Look! We have signalled her, but she has made no reply."
"Are you busy for a moment, Mynheer?" asked Stirling. "We've found a German newspaper on board, and we want to know how it got there."
"I do not love the Germans, Mynheer, nor do I ever look at a German paper. I did not put it there. Perhaps your unfortunate fellow countryman placed it there?"
"We think not. We have a reason for asking. Do you think the master of the Hoorn left it on board?"
"There stands Dick Apeldoorn, the mate of the Hoorn," said the harbourmaster, pointing to a little wizened man leaning against a bollard and looking at the torpedo craft through a pair of binoculars. "He was the only man who went below, besides myself. Why not ask him?"
Dick Apeldoorn was positive he had not handled a newspaper for days, let alone a German one. He was a true Hollander, who looked upon the Germans as land grabbers, intent upon overrunning Holland directly they had an opportunity—if they could. He would scorn to be beholden to the Tageblatt for any information.
"That settles one point," remarked Stirling to his companion. "The Dutchman didn't put the paper in the rack of the cabin; it's morally certain Hamerton couldn't; so who did?"
"Speculate upon it, my dear fellow. It's worth a page in The Yachtsman's Journal. Conjecture something startling, only leave me in peace this afternoon. I must knock up a pot-boiler for The Gentlewoman of Fashion, or there will be no shot in the locker when I get home. As it is, this blessed salvage business has seriously depleted the treasury."