Don Ramon writhed in his chair in a spasm of fierce anger.
"Vat it vas he iss going to do?" asked Carl.
"He has designs on the submarine!" proceeded the don. "He thinks the boat would be valuable to the revolutionists to the south of us. They are threatening Port Livingston, at the mouth of the Izaral, and are seeking to secure the fort there. The lawful authorities of the state will send ships of war to defeat the revolutionists, and Don Carlos wants the submarine to destroy the war vessels."
"Himmelblitzen!" gasped Carl. "Aber," he added soothingly, "don'd you be vorked oop, ton. Der schemer von't ged der supmarine. Captain Nemo, Jr., iss sick, aber Modor Matt iss on der chob, und you bed you he von't let Don Carlos haf der Grampus to helup oudt der repels."
"Diable, no! Motor Matt will not hire the boat to the rascally Don Carlos, but he is a serpent for craft. He intends to get the boat away from Belize by a ruse—and will use my name, my honorable name, to help him prosecute his villainous plot! Think of that, amigo!"
"How vill he do dot, ton?"
"I do not know, but such is his miserable intention; he flaunted it in my face as I lay on the floor at his feet, helpless to move or to speak. We must prevent him from carrying out his contemptible designs. I have told you so much, because it was necessary that you should understand. Come! Let us go at once to Motor Matt! Let us warn him, and put him on his guard."
"Dot's me, ton!" agreed Carl heartily, "aber haf you a pair oof drousers vat I couldt vear?"
"That is a small matter, Señor Pretzel," demurred the don on his way to the door, "and we have other and larger matters to claim our instant attention."
"Some more drousers iss kevite imbortant mit me," insisted Carl. "Id von't dake more as a minude, ton."