"Don't wake my wife," he said drowsily. "What is the trouble?"
"The trouble is," replied the officer coldly, "that a British cruiser has signalled us to stop, and has asked whether an American named Guild is aboard."
"Well," said Guild coolly, "have you any idea what a casual British cruiser might want of _me_?"
"I have not," said the officer, "so perhaps you had better tell _me_ what is wanted of yourself and your wife by the captain of that warship. It might save some argument between him and our own captain. We are due in Amsterdam at noon tomorrow," he added meaningly.
"Do you mean to say that the officer in command of this British ship desires to speak to my wife?"
"His signals stopped us and his wireless told us to detain you and your wife."
"What ship is it?" demanded the young man, so nervous now that he scarcely knew what he was saying.
The Dutch officer remained icy and precise: "The ship is the light cruiser _Wyvern_, of the 'Monster' class. Her consorts yonder are the _Hippogriff_ and _Basalisk_--if this information enlightens you, Mr. Guild."
"It does not. But I know this much: You can't detain an American! Neither can that British captain take a neutral from a neutral ship! And that settles the matter."
"Be good enough to come on deck," said the Hollander in his correct and fluent English. "The captain desires to speak with you."
"Very well. I'll follow you in a moment"--and turning to Karen: "Dearest, are you awake?"
"The captain wishes to see me. I'll be back directly." He stepped out into the corridor, hesitated, excused himself to the officer, and returned to Karen, closing the door and locking it.
She was sitting up on the bed, very still and white, and when he came over to her she instinctively laid both chilled hands in his. He held them in a firm and reassuring clasp; but he was terribly disconcerted.
"Listen, dear. I think a British officer is coming aboard for us. I don't know whether he has any right to take us off this ship, but I'm afraid that the law in the matter won't worry him.
"Now listen to me, dear. If I come back and knock and call to you by name, open. If somebody knocks, and there is no voice--or if it is not my voice, go to that port, open it, untie your satchel, which is hanging outside at a rope's end, take out the papers, and drop them into the sea. And not until you have done this shall you open the door to anybody."
