Impressed
with this disconcerting thought, I emerged again into the main cabin.
The stateroom doors were all closed, and I had to guess which was the
German's. I was sure, however, that Broussard occupied the first on
the port side; I had heard him open that door while talking to the
steward, and it was highly probable the first mate had the apartment
opposite. Judging from the position of the doors these would be larger
than the other staterooms, and, if Herman was the real navigator of the
boat, he would require good quarters. I listened at the door, but
heard nothing; then, rendered desperate by the delay, tried the knob
cautiously. The door was unlocked, opening noiselessly. A glance
convinced me the room was unoccupied, and I stepped inside, gazing
about in surprise. It was nearly twice the size of my own apartment,
containing a wide single berth, several comfortable upholstered chairs,
and a large desk, on which stood a sextant, besides several charts, one
unrolled. To my left, close against the side of the vessel was a
narrow door standing ajar, and through the opening I caught sight of a
porcelain bath tub.
Instantly my mind leaped to a conclusion--the first mate was not on
board; he was ashore with the boat party, and that beast Henley, was
entirely alone.
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