Surely that was meaningless unless there was some secret activity
- unless the pit-prop trade was only a blind to cover some more
lucrative and probably more sinister undertaking? At first sight
it seemed so, but he had not time to think it out then. The men
were returning.

Bulla was speaking this time, and Hilliard soon found he was
telling a somewhat improper story. As the two men disappeared round
the deckhouse he heard their hoarse laughter ring out. Then the
captain cried: "That you, Coburn?" The murmur of voices grew louder
and more confused and immediately sank. A door opened, then closed,
and once more silence reigned.

To Hilliard it seemed that here was a chance which he must not miss.
Coming out from his hiding place, he crept stealthily along the deck
in the hope that he might find out where the men had gone, and learn
something from their conversation.

The captain's cabin was the probable meeting place, and Hilliard
slipped silently back to the window through which he had glanced
before. As he approached he heard a murmur of voices, and he
cautiously leaned back against the bridge ladder and peeped in round
the partly open curtain.

Three of the four seats the room contained were now occupied. The
captain, engineer, and Mr. Coburn sat round the central table, which
bore a bottle of whisky, a soda siphon and glasses, as well as a box
of cigars. The men seemed preoccupied and a little anxious. The
captain was speaking.