brass-bound chest I found in the captain's cabin. Couldn't break into that."
"Dr. Schermerhorn's chest!" exclaimed Barnett. "Then he was aboard."
"Well, he isn't aboard now," said the ensign grimly. "Not in the flesh. And that's all," he added suddenly.
"No; it isn't all," said Barnett gently. "There's something else. Captain's orders?"
"Oh, no. Captain Parkinson doesn't take enough stock in my report to tell me to withhold anything," said Edwards, with a trace of bitterness in his voice. "It's nothing that I believe myself, anyhow."
"Give us a chance to believe it," said Ives.
"Well," said the ensign hesitantly, "there's a sort of atmosphere about that schooner that's almost uncanny."
"Oh, you had the shudders before you were ordered to board," bantered Ives.
"I know it. I'd have thought it was one of those fool presentiments if I were the only one to feel it. But the men were affected, too. They kept together like frightened sheep. And I heard one say to another: 'Hey, Boney, d'you feel like someone was a-buzzin' your nerves like a fiddle-string?' Now," demanded Edwards plaintively, "what right has a jackie to have nerves?"
"That's strange enough about the compass," said Barnett slowly. "Ours is all right again. The schooner must have been so near the electric disturbance that her instruments were permanently deranged."
