A glint from a small bright object caught his eye in the shadow of an ammunition car. He stooped down and picked up a gold locket. Could it be a clew to the mystery? The thing was harmless enough in itself.
O’Neil and Boyd quickly joined him.
“Have you been doing any repair work here?” he asked the gunner’s mate.
“No, sir, everything is right here, barring that shell car you were figuring on,” answered he promptly.
Phil held the locket in his open palm.
“Ask the men of the division if any of them lost a locket,” he spoke carelessly. “If one claims it send him to me,” he added, dropping the trinket in his pocket.
His experiments successfully over, he carefully surveyed the different familiar objects about him. All seemed normal.
“The noises must have come from the shaft alleys or engine room,” he said softly to himself.
“Did you speak, sir?” inquired O’Neil, hearing his low voice.
Phil glanced up with the intention of confiding in his petty officer, then changed his mind.