A friendship existed between the two men. The Chief Steward had obtained Wilkins's post for him. In consequence the former made allowances, which he would not have done in the case of another of his subordinates. Holding Wilkins under the arms the Chief Steward dragged him unceremoniously along the deserted alley-way, and bundled him into his own cabin. There he would be safe from detection. Locking the door, the Chief Steward returned to the pantry, washed out the tell-tale tumbler, and then summoned an assistant steward. "Wilkins is ill," he announced briefly. "Take on Captain's steward's duties until he's fit again." At five minutes to seven Assistant Steward Scott, bearing a can of hot water and a cup of tea, tapped at the Old Man's cabin door. Captain Bullock, as fresh as a proverbial daisy, eyed the deputy coldly. Any alteration of routine jarred him. "Where's Wilkins?" he demanded. "On the sick list, sir." "Humph. Bath ready?" "Yes, sir." The Old Man donned his bridge coat over his pyjamas before making tracks for the bathroom. Suddenly he turned to his servant: "So you were the man who came into my cabin during the middle watch?" Scott stammered and went very red in the face. He was a meek, inoffensive man, and stood in deep awe of those set in authority over him. "No, sir. Please, sir, I didn't," he protested. "I only took on at four bells." Captain Bullock made no audible comment. He went to the writing-desk to see if anyone had left a chit there. There was none. He gave a swift, comprehensive glance at the book-shelf where, among other volumes, were the three separate code-books by which the owners and consignors were able to communicate with the ship. They were in their usual places. The Old Man smiled grimly as he put a hastily formed suspicion from his mind. "All right," he said gruffly. "Carry on." CHAPTER XII The Code-book Mr. William Porter--otherwise Ludwig Schoeffer, had taken readily to his new surroundings on board the S.S. _West Barbican_. He made it a habit to do so, wherever he was: at the Wilhelmstrasse, Berlin, or in Sing Sing Prison, New York. He made a speciality of studying men and things, and, in order to do so, he naturally came to close quarters with the objects of his professional attention. He had failed to prevent the shipment of the Brocklington Company's consignment of steelwork for the Kilba Protectorate. There remained a chance of achieving his object while the steelwork was on the high seas; and to that end he had booked a passage in the _West Barbican_.