"Stow it!" interrupted Seton brusquely. The exhibition of panic angered him. "You've nothing to be frightened about. Now, sir, where are your papers?"
The formal deed of surrender was accomplished, but von Kloster seemed persistent to make a statement.
"Well, what is it?" asked Alec.
"You Count Otto von Brockdorff-Giespert remember?" asked von Kloster in broken English.
"I think I recall the name," admitted Seton grimly. "Where is the—er—fellow?"
"He is dead," declared the kapitan-leutnant.
He paused, hoping to catch a sign of satisfaction in Alec's face at the tidings. Seton's features betrayed nothing.
"He opposed to der surrender vos," continued von Kloster. "It vos at Wilhelmshaven. He would make der unterseebooten put to sea to make fight, but der seamen make mutiny and threw him into der sea. It vos Count von Brockdorff-Giespert who order me to you place on der Mole at Zeebrugge."
"Then he did me a very good turn," rejoined Seton.
The British lieutenant turned on his heel and rapped out an order. From the ensign staff the black cross of infamy was contemptuously hauled down by one of the Bolero's men. To the halliards was toggled another ensign, somewhat similar in design but infinitely cleaner in its records and traditions.