l. How'd _you_ get on this ship?
Nobody'll be hunting for you, will they? Come in--quick. What's the
matter with you?"

Still clutching the dish, Tom was dragged into that dark little room. He
seemed almost in a trance. The hand which had been raised in conspiracy
and treason pushed him roughly onto the berth.

"So you turned up like a bad penny, huh?" whispered his brother,
fiercely.

"I--I wrote you--a letter--after mother died," Tom said simply. "I
don't know if you got it."

"Shut up!" hissed his brother. "Don't talk so loud! You want to get me
in trouble? How'd you know about this?"

His voice was gruff and cold and seemed the more so for his frightened
whisper.

"She died of pneumonia," said Tom impassively. "I was----"

"Gimme that plate!" his brother interrupted.

But this roused Tom. He seemed to feel that his possession of the plate
was a badge of innocence.

"I got to keep it," he said; "it's----"

"Shh!" his brother interrupted. "Somebody's coming; don't move and keep
your mouth shut! It's the second shift of stokers!"

From the companionway came the steady sound of footfalls. There was an
authoritative sound to them as they echoed in the deserted passage,
coming nearer and nearer. It was not the second shift of stokers.

"Shh," said Tom's brother, clutching his arm. "If they should come here
keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. They ain't got anything
on me," he added in a hoarse whisper which bespoke his terror, "unless
_you_--shhh!"

"I know what it is," Tom whispered, "and I ain't a-scared. They got a
signal from the destroyer. They know the room."

"There's nothing they can find here," his brother breathed. "They were
all through here last night. Put that dish down--put it down, I tell
you! Shh!"

Tom let go of the plate, scarcely knowing what he did.

Nearer, nearer, came the footsteps and stopped. The door was thrown open
and in the passage stood the captain, a sailor and the officer who had
spoken to Tom the night before.

Tom's heart was in his throat; he did not move a muscle. What happened
seemed all a jumble to him, like things in a dream. He was aware of a
lantern held by the officer and of the sailor standing by the porthole,
over which he had spread something black.

"Did you know this kid was mixed up in it?" the sailor asked. Tom felt
that the sailor must be a Secret Service man.

"They're brothers," said the captain. "You can see that."

"He had him pos