The Land That Time Forgot, Edgar Rice Burroughs [books suggested by bill gates TXT] 📗

they had been broken just this very night. They had been broken upon the night that Lys had been seen talking with von Schoenvorts. I think that it was this last thought which hurt me the worst. I could look the other disaster in the face with equanimity; but the bald fact that Lys might be a traitor appalled me.

I called Bradley and Olson on deck and told them what had happened, but for the life of me I couldn’t bring myself to repeat what Wilson had reported to me the previous night. In fact, as I had given the matter thought, it seemed incredible that the girl could have passed through my room, in which Bradley and I slept, and then carried on a conversation in the crew’s room, in which Von Schoenvorts was kept, without having been seen by more than a single man.

Bradley shook his head. “I can’t make it out,” he said. “One of those boches must be pretty clever to come it over us all like this; but they haven’t harmed us as much as they think; there are still the extra instruments.”

It was my turn now to shake a doleful head. “There are no extra instruments,” I told them. “They too have disappeared as did the wireless apparatus.”

Both men looked at me in amazement. “We still have the compass and the sun,” said Olson. “They may be after getting the compass some night; but they’s too many of us around in the daytime fer ’em to get the sun.”

It was then that one of the men stuck his head up through the hatchway and seeing me, asked permission to come on deck and get a breath of fresh air. I recognized him as Benson, the man who, Wilson had said, reported having seen Lys with von Schoenvorts two nights before. I motioned him on deck and then called him to one side, asking if he had seen anything out of the way or unusual during his trick on watch the night before. The fellow scratched his head a moment and said, “No,” and then as though it was an afterthought, he told me that he had seen the girl in the crew’s room about midnight talking with the German commander, but as there hadn’t seemed to him to be any harm in that, he hadn’t said anything about it. Telling him never to fail to report to me anything in the slightest out of the ordinary routine of the ship, I dismissed him.

Several of the other men now asked permission to come on deck, and soon all but those actually engaged in some necessary duty were standing around smoking and talking, all in the best of spirits. I took advantage of the absence of the men upon the deck to go below for my breakfast, which the cook was already preparing upon the electric stove. Lys, followed by Nobs, appeared as I entered the centrale. She met me with a pleasant “Good morning!” which I am afraid I replied to in a tone that was rather constrained and surly.

“Will you breakfast with me?” I suddenly asked the girl, determined to commence a probe of my own along the lines which duty demanded.

She nodded a sweet acceptance of my invitation, and together we sat down at the little table of the officers’ mess.

“You slept well last night?” I asked.

“All night,” she replied. “I am a splendid sleeper.”

Her manner was so straightforward and honest that I could not bring myself to believe in her duplicity; yet⁠—Thinking to surprise her into a betrayal of her guilt, I blurted out: “The chronometer and sextant were both destroyed last night; there is a traitor among us.” But she never turned a hair by way of evidencing guilty knowledge of the catastrophe.

“Who could it have been?” she cried. “The Germans would be crazy to do it, for their lives are as much at stake as ours.”

“Men are often glad to die for an ideal⁠—an ideal of patriotism, perhaps,” I replied; “and a willingness to martyr themselves includes a willingness to sacrifice others, even those who love them. Women are much the same, except that they will go even further than most men⁠—they will sacrifice everything, even honor, for love.”

I watched her face carefully as I spoke, and I thought that I detected a very faint flush mounting her cheek. Seeing an opening and an advantage, I sought to follow it up.

“Take von Schoenvorts, for instance,” I continued: “he would doubtless be glad to die and take us all with him, could he prevent in no other way the falling of his vessel into enemy hands. He would sacrifice anyone, even you; and if you still love him, you might be his ready tool. Do you understand me?”

She looked at me in wide-eyed consternation for a moment, and then she went very white and rose from her seat. “I do,” she replied, and turning her back upon me, she walked quickly toward her room. I started to follow, for even believing what I did, I was sorry that I had hurt her. I reached the door to the crew’s room just behind her and in time to see von Schoenvorts lean forward and whisper something to her as she passed; but she must have guessed that she might be watched, for she passed on.

That afternoon it clouded over; the wind mounted to a gale, and the sea rose until the craft was wallowing and rolling frightfully. Nearly everyone aboard was sick; the air became foul and oppressive. For twenty-four hours I did not leave my post in the conning tower, as both Olson and Bradley were sick. Finally I found that I must get a little rest, and so I looked about for someone to relieve me. Benson volunteered. He had not been sick, and assured me that he was a former R.N. man and had been detailed for submarine duty for over two years. I was glad that it