In a back room of a disreputable drinking resort on a narrow street leading from the water front were seated two youths clad in the uniform worn by United States naval¹ cadets.  
On the table between them were a bottle and two glasses. Both youths were smoking cigarettes, and both appeared ill at ease.
 
“I can’t stand this much longer, Chris,” said one, nervously² flipping³ the ash from his cigarette. “If that little beggar don’t turn up pretty soon——”
 
“You’ll go and look for him,” interrupted the other, with a sneer⁴.
 
“Don’t be a fool. How could I find him in this confounded city?”
 
He snapped open his watch and added, abruptly⁵:
 
“Almost seven. Confound it! what can be keeping him?”
 
“Probably had trouble finishing—— What’s the matter?”
 
The other had banged the table with his clinched⁶ fist.
 
“Shut up, will you?” he snarled⁷. “Haven’t you any sense, talking like that? Do you want to get us—us hanged? People may be listening. It isn’t so anyway. Nothing was to be done except giving—except giving Far—him a scare.”
 
Chris Spendly slowly sent a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. He smiled grimly. “We won’t argue that question, Judson,” he drawled. “But when you cough up fifty dollars and promise fifty more, it’s not for the purpose of giving people a scare. And that’s true enough.”
 
Before his companion could reply there was a sound at a door leading to the rear yard. Both sprang to their feet, Judson white-faced and trembling.
 
A lithe⁸, sinewy⁹, barefooted lad hurriedly entered the room. He was breathing heavily, and his face was mottled white as if from deadly fear.
 
He tried to speak, but before the words could form themselves an interruption came in the shape of a loud knock at the door opening into the bar.
 
With a gasping¹⁰ cry, the lad vanished in the direction whence he had come. The cry was echoed by Judson, who stood cowering¹¹ near the table.
 
“We are suspected,” he moaned. “It has been done, and they are after——”
 
“Stop that, you fool!” grated Spendly. “How can they suspect us?”
 
He strode to the door and fumbled¹² at the key unsteadily. He was pale, but there was desperate determination written in his face.
 
At last the lock yielded and the door flung open revealing—the man in charge of the place.
 
“You want more drink?” he asked, in broken English, bowing humbly¹⁴.
 
“No!” snarled Chris, tossing him a piece of money.
 
“Come on,” he added to Judson. “It’s time we were at the dock.”
 
They had presence of mind enough to saunter forth¹⁵ leisurely¹⁶, but once free of the ill-favored resort they quickened their steps almost to a run.
 
“It won’t do for you to be seen looking like that,” exclaimed Spendly, roughly, passing under a street lamp. “Brace up, you fool. You would give yourself away to a blind man.”
 
Judson pulled himself together with an effort. He was ghastly pale, but he walked steadily¹³ as they resumed their way toward the dock.
 
They found the majority of the liberty party gathered there awaiting the hour set for returning on board.
 
It was on the stroke of eight and the boats were already on their way ashore¹⁷.
 
Shortly after Judson and Chris reached the dock, a carriage drove up and Joy and Nanny leaped out close to where the former were standing¹⁸.
 
Joy glanced anxiously from one to the other of the group of cadets. His face was even more grave than usual. And Nanny looked as if tears were not far away from his eyes.
 
“I say,” called out the lanky¹⁹ plebe, “has any one seen Faraday?”
 
Judson and Spendly shrank back into the shadows.
 
“No,” replied a first class cadet named Blakely. “He ought to be here. Why, what’s up? You fellows look worried.”
 
“We can’t understand why Clif isn’t here, that’s all. He went out to a place in the suburbs at four o’clock and was to meet us on the dock at six. We’ve been up to the house where he called and they said he left there in a carriage shortly before dark.”
 
“He may have stopped somewhere on the way back.”
 
“No. Clif is not the fellow to break a promise if he could help it.”
 
“Oh, I don’t know,” came from the shadows back of Blakely. “He’s not so much. I guess he’d break more than a promise if it came to the point.”
 
“You wouldn’t dare to say that to his face, Chris Spendly,” retorted Nanny, warmly. “He’d make you shake in your boots.”
 
Chris discreetly²⁰ remained silent. His

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