"I've risked my life before this," said Tom; "I just as soon put one on, though," he added; "only I never thought about it." "Hmmm," said Mr. Conne, looking at him sharply. "There was a fellow last trip put one on before we got outside Sandy Hook," he added. "Why don't _you_ wear one?" Tom asked. "Me? Oh, I don't know--I don't think I look real well in a cork sash.... I bet you wouldn't have your photograph taken in one of those things," he added, after a moment's pause. "Is Mr. von Stebel all right?" Tom ventured to ask. "Oh, yes, he's all right; but glum as a rainy Sunday." "Did he have any papers?" Tom asked, encouraged by the detective's agreeable manner. "Well, he had a passport. Of course, it was forged. He had a trolley transfer from Wyndham, Ohio, 'bout a hundred miles west of Cleveland, and, let's see, a hotel bill of the Hotel Bishop in Cleveland. He has a suite there, I guess. I'd like to rummage through his trunk. I tripped him up two or three times, enough to find that he's got a lot of information about army places. Seems to have more of it in his head than he had in his pockets." "You'll take him back, won't you?" Tom asked. "Yes, or maybe send him back on the first ship across. They'll turn him inside out in New York. I don't believe he'll leave you anything in his will, Tommy." Tom laughed. "It would be bad if he got to Germany, wouldn't it?" he asked. "I mean with all the information he's got." "It would be worse than bad," said Mr. Conne. "It might be disastrous." He moved on, clinging to the hand-rail along the stateroom tier to steady himself, for the wind was rising to a gale and driving the sea in black mountains which burst in spray upon the deck, wetting Tom through and through as he scurried back to the wireless room for the night's long vigil. CHAPTER XXII SOS Bzzz ... bzzz, bzzz, bzzz...... bzzz ... bz, bz, bz, bz ... bz ... ... bzzz, bz, bz ... bz, bzzz ... bzzz, bz, bzzz, bzzz. "What is it?" Tom asked, standing in the doorway of the wireless room and looking at the black outline of Cattell's form as he sat at the instrument shelf. He could hardly see Cattell for the darkness. It seemed darker, even, than it did out on deck. Some small object fell, and the sound seemed emphasized by the darkness. "Huh, there goes my paperweight again," said Cattell; "it's getting rough, isn't it?" Tom groped around and found it; then, standing, grasped the door-jamb again. "I had to grab the hand-rail coming along," he said; "do you want to turn in?" "No; I couldn't sleep, anyway; I might as well be here." "What was that you took?" Tom asked, as he clambered up into the berth and settled himself comfortably. He, too, could not sleep. "Same old stuff," said Cattell; "_To the day._ They're drinking each other's health again." "I got that a couple of times," said Tom; "what is it, anyway?"