Part 3 (1/2)

That some link existed between Jarrold and the _Endymion_ was, of course, plain. But just why he should have vanished so quickly when the Panama official appeared, was not equally evident. Jack had a pa.s.senger list in front of him, stuck in the frame designed for it.

He ran his eyes over it. Yes, there was the name:

Mr. James Jarrold, N. Y.-Stateroom 44.

Miss Jessica Jarrold, N. Y.-Stateroom 56.

Suddenly Jack's roving glance caught the name of Colonel Minturn, U. S.

A., stateroom 46. So the colonel's stateroom adjoined that of the man who appeared to be so anxious to avoid him! Another thing that Jack noted was that, although the s.h.i.+p was crowded and a stateroom for a single pa.s.senger called for a substantial extra payment, both Mr.

Jarrold and the army man had exclusive quarters. In the case of Colonel Minturn this was, of course, understandable, but Jarrold? Jack looked at the latter's name again, and now he noticed something else that had escaped him before.

Stateroom 44, the room occupied by Jarrold and adjoining Colonel Minturn's, had evidently been changed at the last moment, for originally, as a crossed-out entry showed, Jarrold had been given stateroom 53. A pen line had been drawn through this entry by the purser evidently, when Jarrold had changed his room.

Jack happened to know that Colonel Minturn had come on board at the last moment, so, then, Jarrold had changed his stateroom only when he had found out definitely that Colonel Minturn's room was No. 46. There must be something more than a mere coincidence in this, thought Jack, but, puzzle as he would, he could not arrive at what it meant.

He was still trying to piece it all out when suddenly the door, which he had closed to bar out the flying spray, was flung open.

A gust of wind and a flurry of spume entered, striking him in the face like a cold plunge.

”Bother that catch,” exclaimed Jack, swinging round; ”I'll have to get the carpenter to fix it to-morrow, I--”

But it was not a weakened catch that had given way. The door had been opened by the hand of a man, who, enveloped in a raincoat and topped by a golf cap, now stood in the doorway.

The man was James Jarrold.

CHAPTER V

THE INTERRUPTED MESSAGE

Jack sprang to his feet, but the other held out a withholding hand.

”Stay right where you are, Mr. Ready,” he said. ”I couldn't sleep and I decided to sit out your watch up here with you. You've no objection?”

”I'm sorry,” said Jack, for after all Jarrold was a pa.s.senger and it would not do to offend him if he could help it, ”but it is against the rules for pa.s.sengers to linger about the wireless room.”

”Well, I can write a message, then. You have no objection to that?”

Jack was in a quandary. He knew perfectly well that Jarrold was there for some purpose of his own, but what it was-except that its aim was sinister-he could not hazard a conjecture.

”Of course the office is always open for business,” he rejoined, pus.h.i.+ng a stack of sending blanks toward Jarrold.

”Of course,” replied Jarrold, sinking into a chair beside the young operator. ”By the way, nothing from the _Endymion_ yet?”

”That is the business of the line so far, sir,” replied Jack. ”If it is anything of general interest, you will find the notice posted on the bulletin board at the head of the saloon stairs in the morning.”

Jarrold made no reply to this, but sat absent-mindedly tapping his gleaming white teeth with a gold-cased pencil as if considering what he should write on the blank paper before him. He appeared to be in no hurry to begin, but fumbling for his cigar case, produced a big black weed and leisurely lighted it, puffing out the heavy smoke with an abstracted air.

”Sorry, sir,” struck in Jack sharply, ”but you can't smoke in here, sir.”