"You may yourself think fortunate that no lies you haf told," remarked his interrogator. "All this information I haf. Now, tell me: for what reason was der _Bolero_ an' oder schips off der Nord Hinder?" "That I cannot tell you," replied the Sub. "Do you know?" "I refuse to answer this question." The Kapitan-leutnant addressed several words to his subordinate, the latter writing diligently for some moments. It was an acute period of suspense for Seton. The silence was only broken by the scratching of the temporary secretary's pen, while the Count and von Kloster kept their eyes fixed on the prisoner. Alec was beginning to feel the effects of the salt soup. A burning thirst gripped his throat. "Now, you have time had," continued his inquisitor. "Will you answer?" Seton shook his head. Even if he wanted to speak his parched tongue seemed unequal to the task. But that was not the reason. At all costs, he determined to refuse to give any information likely to be of service to the enemy. "Answer!" shouted Count Otto von Brockdorff-Giespert, bringing his fist down upon the table and wincing at the effort. "Water!" gasped Alec. The Kapitan-leutnant gave an order to one of the men. The fellow saluted and went out, presently to return with a carafe full of water, and a glass. Very deliberately von Kloster filled the glass almost to the brim and offered it to the prisoner. Then, as Seton stepped eagerly forward to take the liquid, the Kapitan-leutnant withdrew the glass. "After you spoken haf, not before," he reminded with tantalizing cunning. "I see you to blazes first!" Alec said hoarsely, with an effort. "Ach, goot!" rejoined von Kloster sneeringly. "We shall see. I leave der matter in der hands of mine chief." "Quite so," assented Count Otto von Brockdorff-Giespert. "I may tell you, prisoner, that the information you refuse to give is already at our disposal. How remains our affair? I can tell you this with absolute certainty: either you will remain a prisoner of war until the end of hostilities, or you will not leave this U-boat alive. Rescue is entirely out of the question. Hence it does not matter whether I tell you a British naval secret. Those tramp steamers you were escorting were decoys. It was the intention of the British Admiral to sacrifice those ships in the hope that our torpedo-boat flotilla at Zeebrugge would be lured out to bite a tempting bait. While our boats were engaged thus, your destroyers were to attempt a raid upon our new naval base, which, like Antwerp in the time of Napoleon, is a pistol aimed at the heart of England. Unfortunately for you, the plan miscarried. Instead of our torpedo flotilla appearing, some of our _unterseebooten_ were lying at the rendezvous, and, as a result, you are here." He paused to watch the effect of his words. Not a muscle of the Sub's face moved. Outwardly his face was an imperturbable mask, although he was suffering the torments of acute thirst.