"I'd like to know who this Lord Guess-so is--barking behind honest men's

backs!"

"Mr. Fogg! That's him! Seems to know his business!"

"Fogg?"

"'Exactly!' That's his great word," explained the other, grinning. "Some

chap, too, with cigars and language!"

"By the gods, now I know who chartered this tug!" he shouted. "What kind

of a fool am I getting to be?"

He turned and ran toward the officers' quarters. He leaped into the main

passageway and explored headlong the staterooms. There was no sign of

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his visitor.

At that moment, in the tumult of his thoughts, he had only a glimmering

of an idea as to what might be the motive of the man's visit. But he

was certain, now, that a wretch who had deliberately wrecked a rival

steamer--if Candage's suspicions were correct--would do almost anything

else for money.

A narrow companionway with brass rails led below to the crew's quarters.

Mayo, coming to the head of it, saw the man hurrying to its foot. The

captain grasped the rails and slid down with one swoop.

"What in the devil's name are you doing?" he gasped.

The intruder grabbed him and threw him to one side, and started up the

companionway. He had dropped the suit-case to seize Mayo, and it bounced

in a way to show that it was empty.

Mayo leaped and grasped the other's legs as he was mounting. The man

kicked him ferociously in the breast before the attacker managed to

pinion the legs in his arms. They went down together, rolling over and

over.

The stranger was stocky and strong, his muscles toughened by a sailor's

activities. Moreover, he seemed to be animated by something more than a

mere grudge or desire to defend himself; he fought with frenzy, beating

his fists into Mayo's face and sides as they rolled. Then he began to

shout. He fairly screamed, struggling to release himself.

But his assailant was just as tough and just as desperate, and he had

a younger man's superior agility. The other had forced the fight. Mayo

proposed to hang to him until he discovered the meaning of this peculiar

ferocity.

He flipped across his prisoner, clutched him by both ears, and rapped

the man's head so smartly on the deck planks that his victim relaxed,

half unconscious.

Then he opened staring eyes. "Let me go! Let me go! I quit. Run for it.

Let me run. We're goners!" he squalled.

"Run? Why?" demanded the victor.

"Dynamite! I've planted it. The fuse is going."




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