The chap
had the impudence of the devil. He said he had been landed from one of
our own cruisers and didn't want to be recognised as an officer, so would
they be kind enough to lend him a coat and let him lock his uniform coat
up in a drawer! He was in his oilskin all this time, you must remember. A
day or two later my cousins grew suspicious and opened that drawer. What
do you think they found?"
"Maps!" guessed Mr. Hobhouse.
"Nothing at all! He had never had a uniform coat. They promptly wired to
the Naval Authorities, locked him in his room meanwhile, and when
Commander Whiteclett appeared he arrested him and took him off."
"And who was he?"
The doctor turned to his guest with an expression of considerable
indignation.
"The damned secrecy of these navy people is past belief! Do you know that
not even my cousins who caught the man for them were ever told a single
word about him! Whiteclett took him straight off to his drifter without
so much as saying good-bye--much less thank you--to my cousin Philip, and
that was the last of it!"
"Then you never learned who the fellow was?"
"He gave his name as Merton--George or was it Roger?--Merton. But you can
believe as much of that as you like."
"And did he land from a cruiser?"
"Not likely! But nobody was ever told how he did land.
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