The two subs had barely settled themselves in their bunks and had switched off the light, when a key clicked in the lock and the German sailor deputed to attend to them stumbled in. He was a taciturn fellow. Perhaps it was because he understood no word of English, and was unaware of the fact that Denbigh spoke German. He had, however, a habit of conversing with himself during the performance of his duties, and more than once Denbigh picked up information from the fellow's unguarded babbling. This time Fritz was silent. Setting down a jug of hot water, he unlocked and opened the port-hole. Having washed, shaved, and dressed, Denbigh and O'Hara made their way to the cabin in which was served their meals. Covers for three lay on the table. The steward was standing by in his customary manner. Without a word the subs seated themselves. Presently Fritz came in to deliver a message from one of the ship's officers. "Where's the third Englander?" asked the steward. Apparently Fritz was fond of a joke at the messman's expense. Without a word he stooped and looked under the table; then drawing himself up, he replied: "I cannot see him." "Fool!" ejaculated the steward. "Don't try to be an idiot; you are one already. Where is the schwein-hund?" "Too lazy to get up and have his breakfast, I suppose," replied Fritz indifferently. "He was fast asleep when I went in." Having asked in broken English if the subs required anything further, and receiving a negative reply, the steward went out. "Deucedly strange," said Denbigh in a low voice. "Those fellows know nothing. I wonder if von Riesser and his cheerful ober-leutnant have been up to mischief." It was not until one bell in the forenoon watch that Stirling's absence was discovered. Denbigh and O'Hara were immediately sent for and closely questioned. The interview was unsatisfactory, the British officers affecting ignorance of the time of their comrade's disappearance; while von Riesser, rightly guessing that Denbigh and O'Hara imagined he was responsible and was trying to cloak suspicion, was so emphatic in his assurances that he knew nothing of Stirling's whereabouts that his very earnestness caused the subs to misjudge him. A thorough search was instituted, but, naturally, without the hoped-for result. Reluctantly, Denbigh and O'Hara came to the conclusion that their chum had either fallen in or had been thrown overboard. Kapitan von Riesser was genuinely perturbed, not on account of the loss of the British officer, but for the additional complication that might ensue if the _Pelikan_ should be captured. The idea of being taken prisoner obsessed the German commander. It loomed up in front of him like a gaunt spectre day and night. It spoke volumes for the fact that Great Britain was Mistress of the Seas.