“Charged! Charged to the gunwale!” he exulted. “Now if we can only hook them up with the heating system of this cabin, we’re all right. Give us a hand.”
Jarvis, catching his idea, began searching for the connecting wires of the heating system, while Dave connected the batteries in series.
“’Ere they are,” he exclaimed suddenly. “Right ’ere, me lad.”
Soon a life-sustaining warmth came gently stealing over the place.
“Take hoff ’alf the batteries,” suggested Jarvis, “’alf’s a plenty. There’s no tellin’ ’ow long we’ll be sailin’ in this hark.”
This was hardly done when their attention was attracted by the stranger. He had groaned and turned over.
“Now that it’s warm enough,” suggested Dave, “we’d better try to help the poor fellow back to consciousness. If he hasn’t suffered a concussion of the brain, he’ll live yet, and perhaps he can tell us things. There are plenty of questions I’d like to ask him.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Jarvis eagerly. “’Oo killed Frank Langlois.”
They went to work over the man. Having removed his outer garments, they unbuttoned his shirt and began chafing his hands, arms and chest, till they were rewarded by a sigh of returning consciousness.
“Where am I?” the man whispered, as he opened his eyes.