"This boat has been built and tested. So has the light. Mr. Ruxton has travelled in a two-thousand-ton boat of this description for nearly a week. He has witnessed the light in operation."
McGrath's eyes were turned half enviously upon Ruxton. There was something bordering upon incredulity in them, too.
"Then they are not some crank's—dreaming?"
"No." Sir Andrew raised his eyes from the drawings, and their unemotional light held the engineer's.
"These plans are for a two-thousand-ton boat. You will put your department on them and increase the tonnage to three thousand, approximately. When you have completed the plans we will lay down the keels of two vessels of that size and proceed with construction with all speed, and—in absolute secrecy. So imperative is the latter that no precaution is too great to take. We will go into other matters later on."
Sir Andrew's manner was a dismissal, and the engineer rose to depart. He was accustomed to the ship-owner's brevity, and it suited his own ideas of things. But Ruxton detained him. He, too, had risen from his seat.
"One moment, McGrath," he said quickly. "There is danger—personal danger in this work. It may even be a matter of life and death to—all concerned. We shall probably have no peaceful time over this thing. I expect that every means—even force—will be used to—wreck us. It is only right to tell you. Shall you be—willing to undertake it in the circumstances?"
The engineer regarded him keenly. Then his hard mouth relaxed, and he seemed to lick his lips.
"This danger. Where does it come from?"
"Germany. The German Government."