"That's funny," said Blake, musingly. "I surely hear that ticking in this berth; don't you?"
"Yes," assented Joe. "Maybe it's mixed up in the bedclothes." Before Blake could interfere Joe had turned back the coverings, and there, near the foot of the berth, between the sheets, was a small brass-bound box, containing a number of metal projections. It was from this box the ticking sound came.
"Why—why!" gasped Blake. "That—that box—"
"What about it?" asked Joe, wonderingly.
"That's the same box that was on his table the time we came in his room at the hotel—when we smelled the cigar smoke. I wonder what it is, and why he has it in his bed?"
CHAPTER X
THE SECRET CONFERENCE
Blake was silent a moment after making this portentous announcement. Then he leaned forward, with the evident intention of picking up the curious, ticking box.
"Look out!" cried Joe, grasping his chum's hand.