anchorage, at another a similar distance to the eastward, the idea being to mislead any Zeppelin that might attempt to drop bombs upon the harbour and shipping.

Setting his face towards the friendly lights, Mr. Greenwood began the descent of the rough hillside. Before he had gone a quarter of a mile the irresistible yearning for a pipe assailed him. Turning his back to the wind, he struck a match, and was soon puffing contentedly at his gratifying briar.

Suddenly half a dozen dark forms pounced upon him. Before he could utter a sound he was seized by a pair of muscular hands, and a hoarse voice exclaimed:

"Now, then, wot's your little game? Flashing lights at this time o' night, eh?"

Mr. Greenwood did not immediately reply. His dignity as a respectable British citizen had been outraged. He drew himself up with as much hauteur as the circumstances would permit.

"Allow me to inform you," he said stiffly, "that I will not be spoken to in this dictatorial manner."

"All right, old sport, don't bust yourself," rejoined his questioner. "Now, what are you doing here this time o' night? Wanderin' along the cliffs at ten o'clock wants a little explanation."

"As a matter of fact I was looking for H.M.S. 'Pompey,'" began Mr. Greenwood.

A roar of laughter greeted this announcement.

"D'ye expect to find her on top of a cliff?" asked the man when the merriment had subsided. "Look here, this is a serious matter. We're the Coast Patrol. We saw a light about a quarter of an hour ago and another just now."

"When I lit my pipe," added Mr. Greenwood, who, still ruffled by his reception, had decided not to impart the secret to the uncouth crowd that had waylaid him; "and what I said about the 'Pompey' is absolutely correct. I was directed along the cliffs, missed my way, and got cut off by the tide. My object was to visit my son, who is an officer on board the cruiser in question. If you have any reason to doubt my statement, inquiries on board will remove all suspicion."

"You came up over the cliffs, sir?" asked the man respectfully, for Mr. Greenwood's declaration that he was the father of a naval officer could not lightly be ignored.

"I did," replied Mr. Greenwood with studied pride. He did not think it necessary to explain how.

"Well, you're a game 'un, pardon my saying so. P'raps, sir, you won't mind if we sees you back to the town. Dooty is dooty, an' we must satisfy ourselves that you are what you says you are. Got any friends at Auldhaig?"

Mr Greenwood was adverse to causing his daughter anxiety at that time of night. At the hotel he was known only as a stranger putting up for a few days.

"I'm afraid I haven't," he replied. "But, if it is not too late, I suppose you could accompany me on board the cruiser?"

The men conferred amongst themselves; then the spokesman again addressed the object of his suspicion.

"All right, sir; that'll be the best way, I'm thinking. Best foot forward, sir. We may just catch the six-bell boat from the staith."

The speaker and another member of the patrol fell in on either side of their suspect, while the rest of the party disappeared in the opposite direction.

"We are members of the National Guard," explained the senior of the two men. "'Tain't exactly a soft job, but it's something. Not often do we come across strangers on the cliffs after dark. When we do, we generally run 'em in. My word, I'd like to know how you got up here from the beach, sir!"

Mr. Greenwood declined the bait. He was well satisfied with the way events were shaping themselves. In spite of his misadventures and the lateness of the hour, he stood a fair chance of seeing his son that night.

Half an hour's steady tramp brought him and his escort to the staith or quay. Answering the challenge of the armed seaman on sentry, the patrol men ascertained that the "Pompey's" boat had not yet put off to bring back a party of officers who had been ashore on leave.

Presently several great-coated forms appeared through the darkness. Amongst them was the commander.

"Beg pardon, sir," said the sentry. "Three civilians require passage to the 'Pompey.'"

"Eh, what?" queried the commander. "At this time of night? What for? Who are they?"

Mr. Greenwood seized the opportunity by explaining to the naval officer that he had urgent reasons for seeing his son—Assistant Paymaster Eric Greenwood, R.N.R.

"Personal reasons?" asked the commander. "I am afraid you will have to defer your visit till the morning. Sorry; but personal considerations have to stand aside in wartime. And who might your companions be?"

"My—er—my goalers, I suppose I must term them," explained Mr. Greenwood. "I am, I believe, under arrest. In addition to personal reasons I have a matter of national importance which I wish to bring to the notice of the authorities. Since I know only two people connected with the service, both of whom are officers on the 'Pompey,' I thought—— But I'd rather explain to you alone."

The commander hesitated. He was a genial man, ready to do anyone a good turn. If, however, he took the responsibility of introducing a civilian on board on the strength of what might prove to be a cock-and-bull story, he might be rapped over the knuckles by the Admiralty—and, he reflected, being rapped over the knuckles by My Lords generally resulted in the sting remaining for many a long day.

"Why not make your report to the flag captain?" suggested the commander suavely. "His shore office is open day and night, and that would save you a tedious boat journey on a cold night like this."

Mr. Greenwood could be very obstinate when occasion arose. Having gone thus far, he was determined to see the business through in the manner he had intended.

"No, sir," he replied. "I do not want to run about after flag captains at this hour of the night. If you cannot see your way clear to accede to my request, the important matter of which I hinted must wait. The responsibility which is no light one—will be transferred to other shoulders."

It was the turn of the commander to be taken aback. He was not used to be talked to like this by civilians. He tried to fix the middle-aged gentleman with his best quarter-deck glare, but the darkness foiled him. Had he been able to see the dishevelled individual in the light he would doubtless have come to the conclusion that he was being tackled by a person with an unhinged mind.

"Very well—carry on," he exclaimed. "Here's the boat. Coxswain! assist this gentleman into the stern-sheets."

"And us, sir?" began the National Guard, but the naval officer "choked him off."

"No, no," he interrupted hurriedly. "I'll be responsible for your—er—prisoner."

Guided by the coxswain, Mr. Greenwood stepped off the quay into the stern-sheets of the picquet-boat. In fifteen seconds he found himself sandwiched between two young officers, while another half a dozen completely crowded out the strictly limited space.

The coxswain sounded a bell in the engine-room. The engines were reversed and the long, lean boat backed from the quay. Then, at full speed ahead, she glided rapidly, without lights, through the pitch dark waters of Auldhaig Harbour.

CHAPTER V

EXPLANATIONS

"Pass the word for Mr. Greenwood," ordered the commander as Greenwood, Senior, found himself on the quarter-deck.

The voyage, short as it had been, was a revelation to him. It showed him how the navy men handle their boats on a winter's night, without a light to guide them, and unable themselves to show the orthodox red, white, and green steaming lights. He was in momentary dread of finding himself in the water owing to the picquet-boat either colliding with something or else being cut in twain by another marine race-horse. He marvelled at the sangfroid of his uniformed companions, who chatted