But the little cockney lost no time; fingers and pen-knife flew;
Neeland, his arms free, tore the bandage from his mouth and spat out
the wad of cloth.
"I'll do the rest," he gasped, forcing the words from his bruised and
distorted lips; "follow that man who was outside talking to you! Find
him if you can. He had been planning to blow up this ship!"
"That man, sir!"
"Yes! Did you know him?"
"Yes, sir; but I darsn't let on to him I knew him--what with 'earing
that you was in here----"
"You did know him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who is he?"
"Mr. Neeland, sir, that there cove is wot he says he is, a member of
Parliament, and his name is Wilson----"
"You're mad! He's an Eurasian, a spy; his name is Karl Breslau--I
heard it from the others--and he tried to blow up the captain's cabin
and the bridge with those three bombs lying there on the bed!"
"My God, sir--what you tell me may be so, but what I say is true, sir;
that gentleman you heard talking outside the door to me is Charles
Wilson, member of Parliament, representing Glebe and Wotherness; and I
knew it w'en I 'anded 'im the 'ot stuff!--'strewth I did, sir--and
took my chance you'd 'elp me out if I got in too rotten with the
company!"
Neeland said: "Certainly you may count on me. You're a brick!" He continued to rub
and slap and pinch his arms and legs to restore the circulation, and
finally ventured to rise to his shaky feet. The steward offered an
arm; together they hobbled to the door, summoned another steward,
placed him in charge of the room, and went on in quest of Captain
West, to whom an immediate report was now imperative.