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Box with the Broken Seals

<h2 id="id00751" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER X</h2> The captain sank into his easy-chair a little wearily. It had been a long and rather trying vigil. His steward filled two cups with coffee and at a sign from his master withdrew. "Any news?" "I have been compelled," Crawshay announced, stirring his coffee, "to dismantle your wireless." "The devil you have!" "Also, to speak words of wisdom to young Robins. I detected him signalling our location to the Blucher." The captain set down his coffee cup. "Mr. Crawshay," he said, "this is a very serious accusation." "It isn't an accusation at all—it's a fact," Crawshay replied. "Luckily, he hadn't picked her up when I got there. He signalled our exact location and our course a dozen times or more, without response. Then I took a hand in the game." "Exactly what happened?" the captain enquired. "Well, I borrowed a key from Mr. Dix, and whilst the young man was down at his supper I concealed myself in his bunk. I listened to him for a short time, and then I intervened." "Did he make any trouble?" "He had no chance," Crawshay explained, a little grimly. "I was first off the mark. On this piece of paper," he added, smoothing it out, "you will find Robins' calculations as to our whereabouts, which I took as being correct. These, you understand, were not picked up. Lower down you will see the message which he sent under my superintendence later on—" "Superintendence?" the captain interrupted. "At the point of my revolver," Crawshay explained. "This message was picked up by the Blucher." The captain scanned the calculations eagerly. "Wish you'd given us a little more room," he muttered. "However, it will be all right unless we get fog. We might blunder into one another then." "This little incident," Crawshay continued, crossing his legs, "confirms certain impressions with which I came on board. I think that the scheme was to get the documents on board this steamer, and then, in order to avoid the inevitable search at Liverpool, I fancy it was arranged that the Blucher should be on the lookout for us and take over the messenger, whoever he may be, and the documents. It's a straightforward, simple little scheme, which we have now to look at from our own point of view. In the first place, the Blucher is now very much less likely to capture us. In the second place, I would suggest that in case the Blucher should happen to blunder across us, we make the search at once instead of in Liverpool." "What, search every one on board?" the captain asked. "Suspected persons only." "Exactly who are they?" "First and foremost, Mr. Jocelyn Thew." "And afterwards?" Crawshay hesitated. "Mr. Phillips and his entourage." "What, the man who is supposed to be dying?" "I will admit," Crawshay said, "that this is more or less guesswork, but I suspect every one with whom Jocelyn speaks." "Great heavens, you are not thinking of Miss Beverley!" the captain exclaimed. "I fail utterly to understand her acquaintance with Jocelyn Thew," Crawshay confided. "I do not propose, however, that you interfere with these people for the moment. What I do ask is that Jocelyn Thew's effects are searched, and at once." "It's a thing that's never happened before on any steamer I've commanded," the captain said reluctantly, "but if it has to be done, I will do it myself." "What chance of fog is there?" his companion enquired. "We shall get some within twenty-four hours, for certain. It's coming up from the west now." "Then the sooner you make a start with Mr. Jocelyn Thew, the better," Crawshay suggested. "I don't think there's one chance in a hundred that he'd have those documents in any place where we should be likely to find them by any ordinary search, but you can never tell. The cleverest men often adopt the most obvious methods." The captain yawned. "I'll have two hours' sleep," he decided, "then Dix and I will tackle the job. I don't suppose you want to be in it?" "I should prefer not," Crawshay replied. "I'll follow your example," he added, rising to his feet. The habits of Mr. Jocelyn Thew on shore were doubtless most regular, but on board ship he had developed a proclivity for sleeping until long after the first breakfast gong. About half-past eight that morning, he was awakened from a sound sleep by a tap on his door, and instead of the steward with his hot water, no less a person entered than the captain, followed by the purser. Jocelyn sat up in his bunk and rubbed his eyes. "Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "Anything wrong?" The captain undid the catch of the door and closed it behind him. "Are you sufficiently awake to listen to a few words from me on a subject of importance, Mr. Thew?" he asked. "Certainly," was the prompt reply. "Very well, then," the captain proceeded, "I shall commence by taking you into my confidence. There is an impression on the part of the British and American Secret Services that an attempt is being made to convey documents of great importance, and containing treasonable matter, to Europe by some one on board this ship." Jocelyn Thew, who was attired in silk pyjamas of very excellent quality, swung himself out of the bunk and sat upon the side of it. The captain was an observant man and of somewhat luxuriant tastes himself, and he fully appreciated the texture and quality of the suspected man's night apparel. "This sounds remarkably interesting," Jocelyn said. "Very kind of you, Captain, I am sure, to come and tell me about it." "My visit," the captain continued, a little drily, "had a more definite object. It is my duty to explain to you that the circumstances of this voyage are unprecedented. We are going to take liberties with our passengers which in normal times would not be dreamed of." Jocelyn Thew pushed the knob with his left hand and let some cold water run into his basin. Then he dabbed his eyes for several moments with his fingers. "Yes, I seem to be awake," he remarked. "Tell me about these liberties, Captain?" "To begin with, I am going to search your stateroom and baggage—or rather they are going to be searched under my supervision. Your trunk from the hold has already been brought up and is in the gangway." "It seems to me," Jocelyn said, sitting, as Mr. Dix expressed it afterwards, like a tiger about to spring, "that you've been listening to that crazy loon, Crawshay." "I am not at liberty," the captain rejoined, "to divulge the source from which my information came. I am only able to acquaint you with my intentions, and to trust that you will offer no obstruction." "The obstruction which I could offer against the captain of a ship and his crew would be a waste of energy," Jocelyn observed, with fine sarcasm. "At the same time, I protest most bitterly against my things being touched. Any search you deemed necessary could be undertaken at Liverpool by the Customs officers in the usual way. I consider that this entrance into my stateroom on the high seas, and this arbitrary resolve of yours to acquaint yourself with the nature of my belongings is indefensible and a gross insult." "I am sorry that you take it this way, Mr. Thew," the captain regretted. "Any complaints you feel it right to make can be addressed to the company's agents in Liverpool. At present I must proceed with what I conceive to be my duty. Do you care to hand Mr. Dix your keys?" "I will see Mr. Dix damned first!" Jocelyn assured him. The captain shrugged his shoulders, called to the steward, who was waiting outside, and the search commenced. They opened drawers, they turned up the carpet. They invited Jocelyn Thew to sit upon the couch whilst they ripped open the bed, and they invited him to return to the bed whilst they ripped up the couch. His personal belongings, his dressing-case and his steamer trunk were gone through with painstaking care. His trunk, which was then dragged in, was ransacked from top to bottom. In due course the search was concluded, and except that his wearing apparel seemed chosen with extraordinary care and taste, nothing in any way suspicious was discovered. The captain made haste to acknowledge the fact. "Well, Mr. Thew," he announced, "I have done my duty and you are out of it with a clean sheet. Have you any objection to answering a few questions?" "Every objection in the world," Jocelyn Thew replied. The purser ventured to intervene. "Come, Mr. Thew," he said, "you're an Englishman, aren't you?" A light flashed in Thew's eyes. "I shall break the promise I made to the captain just now," he declared, "and answer that one question, at any rate. I thank God I am not!" Both men were a little startled. Jocelyn's cold, clear voice, his manner and bearing, were all so essentially Saxon. The captain, however, recovered himself quickly. "If the tone of your voice is any index to your feelings, Mr. Thew," he said, "you appear to have some grudge against England. In that case you can scarcely wonder at the suspicions which have attached themselves to you." "Suspicions!" Jocelyn repeated sarcastically. "Well, present my compliments to the wonderful Mr. Crawshay! I presume that I am at liberty now to take my bath?" "In one moment, Mr. Thew. Even though you do not choose to answer them, there are certain questions I intend to ask. The first is, are you prepared to produce the Marconigram which you received last evening?" "How do you know that I received one?" "The fact has come to my knowledge," the captain said drily. "You had better ask the operator about it." "The operator is at the present moment under arrest," was the terse reply. If the news were a shock to Thew, he showed it in none of the ordinary ways. His face seemed to fall for a moment into harder lines. His mouth tightened and his eyes flashed. "Under arrest?" he repeated. "More of Crawshay's tomfoolery, I suppose?" "More of Mr. Crawshay's tomfoolery," the captain acknowledged. "Robins is accused of having received a Marconigram of which he took no note, and which he handed to a passenger. He is also accused of attempting to communicate with an enemy raider." A peculiar smile parted Jocelyn's lips. "You seem to wish to make this steamer of yours the mise-en-scene of a dime novel, Captain," he observed. "I accept the part of villain with resignation—but I should like to have my bath." "You don't propose to tell me, then," his questioner persisted, "the contents of that message?" "I have no recollection of having received one," Jocelyn replied coolly. "You are making me very late for breakfast." They left him with a brusque word of farewell, to which he did not reply. Jocelyn, in a dark-green silk dressing gown, with a huge sponge and various silver-topped bottles, departed for the bathroom. The captain and the purser strolled up on deck. "What do you make of that fellow, Dix?" the former asked. The purser coughed. "If you ask me, sir," he replied, "I think that Mr. Crawshay has got hold of the wrong end of the stick." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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