“I do not want it, if it is the only one you have, but they are a great convenience in one’s berth, for the lights must be kept turned off, now that we are in the danger zone made by those terrible Germans.  Ah, how I hate them!” and his anger seemed very real and earnest.

“Did you say you wanted to borrow a pocket electric flash lamp?” asked Blake, wishing to make the caller repeat his request.  As he asked this question Blake looked at his chums, as though to ask them to take particular note of the reply.

“I should like to, yes, if you have one to spare.  There are three of you, and, I presume, like most travelers, you each have one.  I am alone in a single stateroom, and I may have need of a light.  I will return it to you at the end of the voyage, or buy it of you at a good price.  You see, I have a little Jew in me.  I will make a bargain with you.  And I will pay you well, something a Jew proverbially does not like to do.  But I realize the value of what I want, and that the market is not well supplied, so you may take advantage of my situation.  My battery is either worn out or the light is broken.  It will not flash.”

He shoved down the little sliding catch, but there was no glow in the tiny tungsten bulb.

“You have me at your mercy if you wish to sell me a lamp,” he went on, with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders, not unlike that of Lieutenant Secor.

“Hasn’t your friend a spare light?” asked Joe quickly.

“My friend?” repeated the German, as though surprised.  “You mean——?”

“I mean Lieutenant Secor.”

“Oh, him!” and again came the deprecatory shrug of the shoulders.  “He is an acquaintance, not a friend.  Besides, he has but one lamp, and he needs that.  So, also, will you need yours.  But as there are three of you together, I thought perhaps——­”

“We each have a light,” said Blake, interrupting the rather rapid talk of Labenstein.  “In fact, I have two, and I’ll let you take one.”

“That is very kind of you.  Ah, it is like mine!”

The visitor was watching Blake eagerly as he brought forth one of the flat, three-cell nickel-plated holders of tiny batteries, with the white-backed and tungsten-filamented incandescent light set in a depressed socket.

“Yes, this is the best type,” Blake said.  “You may have this.”

“And the price?” asked Labenstein, as his hand quickly went into his pocket.

“Is nothing,” answered Blake.  “It is a gift.”

“Ah, but, my dear sir, that is too much!  I could not think of taking it without pay!” insisted Mr. Labenstein, as he flashed on the light and then slipped the switch back in place again.  “I protest that I must pay you.”

“Please don’t insist on paying,” begged Blake, “for I shall only have to refuse to take any money.  Please consider the light a gift.  I have a spare one.”

“You are very kind, I’m sure,” said the other, bowing with some exaggeration, it seemed to the boys.  “I appreciate it, I assure you, and I shall look for a chance to repay the favor.”