Sydney was not at all satisfied with the explanation and would have continued the argument, but Phil’s even breathing showed his companion was perfectly satisfied with the solution.
They had been asleep but a short time when one of the heavy tropical rain-storms, which seem to be ever present on the horizon in these waters, burst upon the ship, surprising the boys, who had not noticed the gathering clouds earlier in the night. They saw with regret that they must seek other shelter or else sleep the remainder of the night below in their heated stateroom.
“I am going below, Syd. I am sleepy enough to sleep even in the heat,” said Phil, gathering his bedding and disappearing down the hatchway.
He groped his way across the dark passageway, sleepily feeling for the door of his stateroom.
Suddenly he collided heavily with a figure which sent him reeling across the deck. His hand struck the side of the bulkhead and he saved himself a fall.
In the dark he could just distinguish a white figure as it dashed through the door of the mess room and disappeared under the multitude of sleeping-hammocks on the berth deck.
What could it mean? What was this man doing in his room?
Sydney came in after Phil had turned on the light and was told of the experience.
“See if any of your valuables are missing?” he suggested. “Mine are here on the bureau all in plain sight.”
Phil had been rummaging through his desk. He now turned a smiling face to Sydney.