"What?" ejaculated the steward.
"I fixed it so it can't go off," Tom repeated dully. "If I'd waited till I told you, it might 'a' gone off by mistake."
His manner was so entirely free from excitement that for a moment the steward could only stare at him.
"There ain't any danger now," said Tom.
The steward whistled to himself thoughtfully.
"Go down there and wait till I come, and don't say anything about this to anybody," said he.
Tom went down, feeling quite important; he was being drawn head and shoulders into the war now. Once the thought occurred to him that perhaps he would be suspected of something. For he thought he knew now how easily people did "get misjudged." But that seemed absurd, and he dismissed the thought of it—just as he had dismissed the thought of Roscoe Bent's really doing anything wrong or cowardly.
But still a vague feeling of uneasiness held him....