"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." CHAPTER XI