O’Neil glanced at Captain Garcia’s face. The light through the transom of the room in which the conspirators were shone dimly on his strong face. O’Neil was fairly startled at its expression. He feared that upon hearing the course which his enemy would pursue, Garcia might act precipitately, and spoil the plan.
“Come,” the sailor whispered, grasping the captain’s arm, “we must go.”
But the naval officer could not be moved. He reached in his pocket and drew out a silver-mounted revolver, and took a step forward toward the door of the room.
“You’ll spoil everything,” O’Neil whispered hoarsely.
The door of the room opened suddenly and a flood of light shone out in the hallway. Lazar stood on the threshold, his face turned backward over his shoulder; he was talking to Mareno behind him.
“Craig is up-stairs, is he not? I shall get him and join you immediately,” he said.
O’Neil was terribly anxious. If their presence were discovered, the conspirators would change their plans. The light seemed to fall directly upon himself and Captain Garcia. How could Lazar fail to see them?
Lazar passed the eavesdroppers so close that it seemed to O’Neil detection was a certainty. What should he do? He dared not lift his hand against his superior officer. His long training in the navy had taught him what terrible consequences would be the result of such a rash act. He held his breath tightly and drew Captain Garcia closer against the wall. The door swung shut and the hall was again in partial gloom. Lazar’s footfalls could be heard ascending the stairs.
“We’ve got to get out,” he breathed in relief as he half dragged his companion down the steps.
They left the house by the way they had entered; this time they were not observed, for the caretaker of the house was fast asleep.