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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Captain of the Polestar"

As to the box, I have certainly never
before seen one like it. It contained delicate machinery; of that
I am convinced, from the way in which the men handled it and spoke
of it."
"You'd make out every packet of perishable goods to be a torpedo,"
said Dick, "if that is to be your only test."
"The man's name was Flannigan," I continued.
"I don't think that would go very far in a court of law," said
Dick; "but come, I have finished my cigar. Suppose we go down
together and split a bottle of claret. You can point out these two
Orsinis to me if they are still in the cabin."
"All right," I answered; "I am determined not to lose sight of
them all day. Don't look hard at them, though, for I don't want
them to think that they are being watched."
"Trust me," said Dick; "I'll look as unconscious and guileless as
a lamb;" and with that we passed down the companion and into the
saloon.
A good many passengers were scattered about the great central
table, some wrestling with refractory carpet bags and rug-straps,
some having their luncheon, and a few reading and otherwise amusing
themselves. The objects of our quest were not there. We passed
down the room and peered into every berth, but there was no sign of
them. "Heavens!" thought I, "perhaps at this very moment they are
beneath our feet, in the hold or engine-room, preparing their
diabolical contrivance!" It was better to know the worst than to
remain in such suspense.


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