His mouth was, I saw, hard set.

He knew something concerning that mysterious craft, but would not tell me.
The sound of a bugle came from the further end of the ship, and immediately men were scampering along the deck beneath as some order or other was being obeyed with that precision that characterizes the "handy man." "Why are you silent ?" I asked slowly, my eyes fixed upon my friend the officer.

"I have told you what I know, and I want to discover the motive of the visit of those men, and the reason they opened Hutcheson's safe." "How can I tell you ?" he asked in a strained, unnatural voice.
"I believe you know something concerning them.

Come, tell me the truth." "I admit that I have certain grave suspicions," he said at last, standing astride with his hands behind his back, his sword trailing on the white deck.

"You say that the yacht was called the _Lola_--painted gray with a black funnel." "No, dead white, with a yellow funnel." "Ah! Of course," he remarked, as though to himself.