Caradoc withdrew his head from the hood. In the faint gleam from the
outside incandescents, he fell to untying the strings by which the suits
were leashed to the lines. He handed eleven suits to Madden, who passed
them under the hood and Malone received them inside. Then Smith
deliberately stripped off his own clothes and drew on a pair of German
trousers.
"Get on a pair, Madden," he advised. "Civilian trousers will be
conspicuous in a bright light. You are going to see this thing through,
aren't you?"
Madden nodded and followed his companion's example. Five minutes later
the two, transformed into German sailors, walked out of the hanging
laundry.
"Don't seem, to observe anything," whispered Caradoc. "Appear to be
going somewhere, on an errand. Walk just as if you belonged aboard."
A moment later the Briton turned down a stairway that led to a shadowy
deck, which was hung with long rows of hammocks with men sleeping in
them. The air down here was remarkably cool, although Madden did not
have time to give much thought to this. Caradoc pursued his way
unhesitatingly among the sleeping sailors, and presently came to another
hatchway, out of which poured the rumble of machinery and a stream of
light.
Down this flight of steps, Smith moved with certainty, and a moment
later Madden saw they were entering a great machine shop.
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