"Now I wonder," thought Blake to himself, as Joe made ready to leave,
"why he thinks it worth his while to tell that untruth? What is his
game?"

At the same time an uneasy thought came to Joe.

"If we go up and leave Blake alone with this fellow, may not something
happen? Perhaps he'll attack Blake!"

But that thought no sooner came than it was dismissed, for, Joe
reasoned, what harm could happen to his chum, who was well able to take
care of himself? True, the Frenchman might be armed, but so was Blake.
Then, too, there could be no object in attacking Blake. He had little of
value on his person, and the films and cameras were not in the
stateroom. And there were no films of any value as yet, either.

"Guess I'm doing too much imagining," said Joe to himself. "This fellow
may be a plotter and a spy in German pay--and I haven't any doubt but
what he is--but I reckon Blake can look after himself. Anyhow, he wants
me to leave Secor to him, and I'll do it. But not too long!"

So Joe and Charlie, taking the small camera with them, went up on deck.
There they did find an unusual lifeboat drill going on. The danger zone
was now so close that Captain Merceau and his officers of the ship were
taking no chances. They wanted to be prepared for the worst, and so they
had the men passengers practise getting into the boats, which were
lowered into the water and rowed a short distance away from the ship.

The women and children, of whom there were a few on board, watched from
the decks, taking note of how to get into the boats, and how best to act
once they were in their places.

"Going to film this?" asked Charlie of Joe.

"No, I think not," was the answer. "It's interesting, but there have
been lots of drills like it. If it were the real thing, now, I'd shoot;
but I'm going to save the film on the chance of getting a sub or a
torpedo. This is a sort of bluff on the part of you and me, anyhow.
Blake wanted to get us out of the cabin while he tackled Secor, I
reckon. What _his_ game is I don't know."

"I can come pretty near to guessing," said Macaroni, as he stretched his
lank legs, which had, in part, earned him the nickname. "That fake
lieutenant is planning some game with the German spy, that's his game."

"Maybe," admitted Joe. "But I don't see how we figure in it."

"Perhaps we will after we've gotten some reels of valuable film,"
suggested Charlie. "Don't crow until you've ground out the last bit of
footage."