"How came you to give Port Said as a port of call to one of your
correspondents?" he asked.
"I did not," said Dick, whose surprise was genuine enough to disarm
suspicion.
"Then some one has made a very accurate guess, yes?" sneered the other.
"I expected no letter from any person under the sun, and I certainly
told no one I was passing through Port Said, for the sufficient reason
that I never even thought of the place until you informed me yourself,
sir, that we were bound for the Red Sea."
"It is strange. Well, here is your letter. Perhaps, when you have read
it, you may understand how the thing happened. I wished our destination
to remain hidden, from the general public, and you are the only man on
board, except Mr. Fenshawe and myself, whose whereabouts are known in
London."
Now it chanced that the postmark was illegible, and, furthermore, that
von Kerber had already read the letter by adopting the ingenious plan
of the Russian censor, who grips the interior sheet in an instrument
resembling a long, narrow curling-tongs, and twists steadily until he
is able to withdraw it uninjured.
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