“Those precious rascals!” ejaculated Captain Sturdy, a frown passing over his brow.
“How do you know that they have landed?” asked the professor, settling back uneasily into his seat.
“From a sure source,” replied Phalos. “A friend of mine in Alexandria, whom I took into my confidence regarding my experience on shipboard and who agreed to have a watch kept on debarking passengers, brought me word. He knows the men, and assures me there is no mistake.”
“I had thought that by this time they were below with Davy Jones,” grumbled Teddy.
“No such luck,” remarked Phalos, with a smile that did not conceal the deep anxiety he felt. “They must have made land all right the night they slipped overboard.”
“But how could they have got here so soon?” asked Don, in some perplexity.
“Had the luck to get an English liner that stopped at Gibraltar the day after they had swum to shore,” was the reply. “My friend tells me that it is one of the fastest boats on the line.”
“They say that the Evil One looks after his own,” growled the captain.
“And this is one of the things that seems to prove it,” added Don.
“Well,” said the professor, crossing his legs, “now that they are here, what do you apprehend?”