The sound continued, seemingly becoming louder. Then it ceased and a metal object rattled on the deck below. It was so clear and distinct that he thought it must be caused by Boyd in the handling room. Doubtlessly he was already there awaiting him.
“Boyd,” he raised his voice in order to be heard beyond the shutters.
No answer.
He called again louder. The sound of footsteps came to his ears from the handling room. What could it mean? By Lazar’s orders no work was to be done in the turret or handling room by any one save Boyd, and he had just gone up the hatch, and if he were below he would have answered his call.
Phil swung himself down the ladder, through the scuttle in the turret platform, then down a second ladder, and found himself in darkness on the floor of the handling room.
All was silence.
Presently he heard his name called from above in the voice of Boyd. What could it mean? Some one had been there but a second ago and what had he been doing?
“Turn the light on down here,” he called back. His heart beat wildly.
The electric lights flashed as the switch was turned from above.
The handling room was empty.