“It was rather a near go.” “It was that, Flannigan.” “It wouldn’t have done to have missed the ship.” “No, it would have put our plans out.” “Ruined them entirely,” said the little man, and puffed furiously at his cigar for some minutes. “I’ve got it here,” he said at last. “Let me see it.” “Is no one looking?” “No, they are nearly all below.” “We can’t be too careful where so much is at stake,” said Müller, as he uncoiled the ulster which hung over his arm, and disclosed a dark object which he laid upon the deck. One glance at it was enough to cause me to spring to my feet with an exclamation of horror. Luckily they were so engrossed in the matter on hand that neither of them observed me. Had they turned their heads they would infallibly have seen my pale face glaring at them over the pile of boxes. From the first moment of their conversation a horrible misgiving had come over me. It seemed more than confirmed as I gazed at what lay before me. It was a little square box made of some dark wood, and ribbed with brass. I suppose it was about the size of a cubic foot. It reminded me of a pistol-case, only it was decidedly higher. There was an appendage to it, however, on which my eyes were riveted, and which suggested the pistol itself rather than its receptacle. This was a trigger-like arrangement upon the lid, to which a coil of string was attached. Beside this trigger there was a small square aperture through the wood. The tall man, Flannigan, as his companion called him, applied his eye to this, and peered in for several minutes with an expression of intense anxiety upon his face. “It seems right enough,” he said at last. “I tried not to shake it,” said his companion. “Such delicate things need delicate treatment. Put in some of the needful, Müller.” The shorter man fumbled in his pocket for some time, and then produced a small paper packet. He opened this, and took out of it half a handful of whitish granules, which he poured down through the hole. A curious clicking noise followed from the inside of the box, and both the men smiled in a satisfied way. “Nothing much wrong there,” said Flannigan. “Right as a trivet,” answered his companion. “Look out! here’s some one coming. Take it down to our berth. It wouldn’t do to have any one suspecting what our game is, or, worse still, have them fumbling with it, and letting it off by mistake.” “Well, it would come to the same, whoever let it off,” said Müller. “They’d be rather astonished if they pulled the trigger,” said the taller, with a sinister laugh. “Ha, ha! fancy their faces! It’s not a bad bit of workmanship, I flatter myself.” “No,” said Müller. “I hear it is your own design, every bit of it, isn’t it?” “Yes, the spring and the sliding shutter are my own.” “We should take out a patent.” And the two men laughed again with a cold harsh laugh, as they took up the little brass-bound package, and concealed it in Müller’s voluminous overcoat.