The third one tried unlocked the door, but even as I tried them in the lock, my mind swiftly reviewed the situation in which this affair left us, and leaped forward toward a possible solution.  It must be open war from now on.  No pretense on my part would ever again win me the confidence of the man I had fought and conquered.  Henceforward, we could expect no mercy on board.  Yet how was it possible to escape, or avoid discovery?  To attempt leaving the Sea Gull before dark would be suicidal; no boat could be lowered unseen, and even if one reached the surface of the water, we would surely be overtaken, and brought back.  Yet there was a chance that what had occurred in this cabin could be kept concealed for a few hours, until darkness gave us better opportunity for successful action.  The memory of what Henley had said to me the evening before—­that he was only technically in command; that for days at a time he never appeared on deck in person, gave me the clew.  If he could be kept absolutely secure in his cabin, unable to create any alarm, we would be free to plan our escape.  There were but two points of danger to be guarded against—­Herman and the steward.  The former, when he returned from shore, might seek him for final orders, and the latter, if he failed to appear in the cabin for the regular meal, would endeavor to learn his desires.  I would have to guard against these contingencies, and, with the first in mind, I stepped across to the bathroom, and was gratified to learn that the door leading into the mate’s stateroom could be locked on the inside.  With this private approach barred I felt confident of being able to guard the single entrance remaining.  I met her waiting for me as I stepped out from behind the curtain.

“Well, what can we do?”

“Keep the fellow tied, and wait for night,” I answered soberly.  “That is our only chance.  The mate is ashore—­we are lying in the cove of a small island off the Florida coast, waiting for darkness, and a chance to slip through into southern waters.”

“Do you know where this boat is bound?”

“Yes—­Spanish Honduras; we are loaded with munitions of war,” I laughed.  “I was to be a general down there.”

“You!”

“Yes; swift promotion, was n’t it!  Our friend yonder promised the job; all I had to do was to desert you, and join his outfit.”

“And you consented?”

“With a mental reservation.  It gained me a few hours’ freedom at least, and surely has done you no harm.  Did you doubt me?”

“Oh, I hardly know.  I was so miserable locked up alone, unable to even learn where we were going, that I lost faith in everyone.  You acted so strange.”

“I had to play my part.  But you received my note?”

“Yes, and it helped me wonderfully, although even then I scarcely comprehended why all this pretense was necessary.  Surely you do not believe this man is Philip Henley? that—­that I have told you a lie?”