"Hustle along thar, in
back o' that music box. See--the way I 'm pointin'."
There was but one door, evidence that a single cabin occupied the
entire space astern, and I stopped before it, my companion applying his
knuckles to the wood, but without removing his watchful eyes from me.
A muffled voice asked who was there, and at the response replied:
"Open the door and show him in, Peters, and remain where you are within
call."
I entered, conscious of a strange feeling of hesitancy, pausing
involuntarily as I heard the door close, and glancing hastily about. I
had expected a scene of luxury, a counterpart of the outer cabin.
Instead, I stood upon a plain, uncarpeted deck, the white walls and
ceiling undecorated. On one side was a double tier of berths, lockers
were between the ports, and heavy curtains draped the two windows aft.
Opposite the berths was an arm rack, containing a variety of weapons,
and the only floor covering was a small rug beneath a desk near the
center of the apartment. This latter was littered with papers, among
them a map or two, on which courses had been pricked. Beyond these all
the room contained was a small bookcase, crowded with volumes, and a
few chairs, only one upholstered. The only person present occupied
this, and was seated at the desk, watching me, a cigarette smoking
between his fingers.
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