The first officer barred the way of the procession. He was a competent and self-possessed young man, else he would not have been the first officer. At sight of his brass buttons and gold-braided sleeves Keller, still striving to cast off Bronston's hold, emitted a cry of relief. "Captain! Captain!" he yelled; "listen to me. Listen to me a minute, please." "The captain is on the bridge until the ship has docked," answered the uniformed one. "I am the first officer. What is the trouble?" "There is no trouble--now." It was Bronston speaking; speaking authoritatively and without outward signs of excitement. "Would you care to hear what I have to say, Mr. Officer?" "I would." "But, see here, I'm the one that's got a right to do the talking," burst in a frenzied gurgle from the sorely beset Keller. "You listen to me. This is an outrage!" "One at a time," quoth the first officer in the voice of one accustomed to having his orders obeyed. "Proceed," he bade Bronston. "You may have heard," stated Bronston, "that we are a detective and a prisoner. I believe there has been talk to that effect on board here for the past day or two." The first officer--his name was Watts--nodded to indicate that such rumours had come to his ears. "Very well, then," went on Bronston; "my man here will probably claim he is being kidnapped. That is his last hope." He smiled at this. "He tried to get away from me a bit ago. We had a tussle. The steward here heard us struggling. I overpowered him and ironed him. Now, for reasons best known to himself, I apprehend that he will claim that he is really the detective and that I am really the prisoner. Will you kindly look at us both and tell me, in your opinion, which is which?" Dispassionately, judicially, First Officer Watts considered the pair facing him, while curious spectators crowded together in a semicircle behind him and a thickening stream of other first-cabin passengers poured in from off the deck, jostling up closely to feast their gaping eyes upon so sensational an episode. It took the young Englishman only a moment or two to make up his mind; a quick scrutiny was for him amply sufficient. For one of these men stood at ease; well set up, confident, not noticeably rumpled as to attire or flustered as to bearing. But the other: His coat was bunched up on his back, one trouser leg was pulled half way up his shin; his mussed hair was in his eyes; his cap was over one ear; his eyes undoubtedly had a most wild and desperate look; from his mouth came vain words and ravings. Finally there were those handcuffs. Handcuffs, considered as such, may not signify guilt, yet somehow they typify it. So far as First Officer Watts was concerned those handcuffs clinched the case. To his understanding they were _prima facie_ evidence, exceedingly plausible and highly convincing. Promptly he delivered his opinion. It was significant that, in so doing, he addressed Bronston and ignored Keller: