“Oh, yes!  They’ll be on hand to greet us when the time comes,” answered Blake.  “Uncle Sam’s as well as King George’s.  But, for all that, a submarine may slip in between them and send a torpedo to welcome us.”

“Then’s when I’m going to get busy with the small camera,” declared Joe.

“A heap of good it’ll do you to get some pictures of it, if the ship is blown up,” remarked his chum.

“Oh, well, I’m going to take a chance.  Every ship that’s torpedoed doesn’t sink, and we may be one of the lucky ones.  And if I should happen to get some views of a destroyer sinking a submarine—­why, I’d have something that any camera man in the world would be proud of!”

“That’s right!” agreed Blake.  “But don’t take any chances.”

Joe promised to heed this advice, and he was really enthusiastic about his chance of getting a view of an oncoming torpedo.  That he might get views of a warship or a destroyer sinking one of the Hun undersea boats was what he dreamed about night and day.

It was the day before they were actually to enter the danger zone—­the zone marked off in her arrogance by Germany—­that something occurred which made even cautious Blake think that perhaps they were justified in their suspicions of the Frenchman.

The usual lifeboat drills had been held, and the passengers were standing about in small groups, talking of what was best to be done in case the torpedo or submarine alarm should be given, when Macaroni, who had been down in the cabin, came up and crossed the deck to where Blake and Joe were talking to two young ladies, to whom they had been introduced by the captain.

By one of the many signs in use among moving picture camera men, which take the place of words when they are busy at the films, Macaroni gave the two chums to understand he wanted to speak to them privately and at once.  The two partners remained a little longer in conversation, and then, making their excuses, followed their helper to a secluded spot.

“What’s up?” demanded Joe.  “Have you made some views of a torpedo?”

“Or seen a periscope?” asked Blake.

“Neither one,” Charlie answered.  “But if you want to see something that will open your eyes come below.”

His manner was so earnest and strange, and he seemed so moved by what he had evidently seen, that Blake and Joe, asking no further questions, followed him.

“What is it?” Joe demanded, as they were about to enter their cabin, one occupied by the three of them.

“Look there!” whispered the helper, as he pointed to a mirror on their wall.

Blake and Joe saw something which made them open their eyes.  It was the reflection of a strange conference taking place in the stateroom across the passageway from them, a conference of which a view was possible because of open transoms in both staterooms and mirrors so arranged that what took place in the one across the corridor was visible to the boys, yet they remained hidden themselves.