steward had reminded him of one last resource.

"Yes," he said, trying hard to be calm; "I shall want to send a reply."

"Here is a form, sir. You'll find the regulations printed on the back."

Mr. Neilsen closed the door and sank, gasping, on to the suitcase to examine the form. The regulations stated that no message would be accepted in code. This did not worry him at first, as he thought he could concoct an apparently straightforward and harmless message with the elaborate vocabulary of his Number Six. But the code had not been intended for agonizing moments like these. It abounded in commercial phrases, medical terms and domestic greetings; and though there were a number of alternative words and synonyms it was not so easy as he had expected to make a coherent message which should be apparently a reply to the telegram he had received. After half an hour of seeking for the mot juste which would have melted the heart of a Flaubert, he arrived at the purser's office with wild eyes and handed in the yellow form.

"I wish to send this by Marconi wireless," he said.

The purser tapped each word with his pencil as he read it over:

Splendid. Most—amusing. Use—heaps—butter. Congratulate—Uncle Hyacinth.

Love.

Erik.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the purser, "but we can only accept messages en clair."

"It is as clear as I can make it," said Mr. Neilsen; and he was telling the truth. "It is the answer to the telegram which was handed to me on board."

"It looks a little unusual, sir."

"It is gonnected with an unusual operation," said Mr. Neilsen, who was getting thoroughly rattled, "and goncerns the diet of the batient."

"I see," said the purser. "Well, I'll take your word for it, sir, and tell the operator."

At this moment the steward, who had entered Mr. Neilsen's stateroom during his absence, was laying out that gentleman's pyjamas on his berth. He shook them out in order to fold them properly; and in doing so he shook a round ball of paper on to the floor. He unrolled it and discovered two parallel columns of words, which gave a new meaning to the telegram. He put it in his pocket, looked carefully round the room, took all the torn scraps out of the wastepaper basket and put those also in his pocket. Then he went out, just in time to avoid meeting Mr. Neilsen, and trotted by another companionway to the purser's office.

Ten minutes later a consultation was held in the captain's cabin. The two messages and the scraps of paper were spread out on the table, while the purser took another large, clean sheet, on which he jotted down as many of the words as could be deciphered, together with their equivalents, in two parallel columns, almost as neat as those of Mr. Neilsen himself. When he had finished there was a very nice little vocabulary—though it was only a small part of the code; and in a very short time they were staring in amazement at the full translation of the messages concerning Uncle Hyacinth. Then they proceeded to business.

Captain Abbey was an Englishman who had commanded many ships in many parts of the world. He had worked his way up from before the mast, and in moments of emotion he was still inclined to be reckless with his aitches. He was very large and red-faced, and looked as the elder Weller might have looked if he had taken to the sea in youth. Captain Abbey was not a vindictive man; but the Hispaniola was the finest ship he had yet commanded, and the opportunity had come to him as a result of the war and the general dearth of neutral skippers who were ready to take risks. He was not anxious to lose the ship on his first voyage, and his face grew redder and redder as he sat reading the messages on the table.

"What's the translation of 'onions'?" he said.

"I think it means 'abroad,' according to this column," said the purser.

"Put it down. Now, what does 'tonsils' mean?"

"Tonsils? Tonsils? Oh, yes; here we are. It means 'von Tirpitz.'"

"The devil it does," said Captain Abbey.

"And what does 'meat' mean?"

"'German,' I think."

"And 'colossal'?"

"I had it here a moment ago. Ah, 'colossal' means twenty."

"Just like 'em," said the captain. "Here's appendix! I suppose they find these medical terms useful. How do you translate that?"

"Appendix? H'm; let me see. Appendix means false."

"'E deserves to 'ave it cut out with a blunt saw, blast 'is eyes. And what d'you make of this message 'e's just 'anded in?"

"As far as I can make it out this is the translation: 'Cancel instructions sink; message too late; aboard Hispaniola.'"

"And the lily-livered little skunk wanted to get orf and save his own 'ide! But 'e was quite ready to let the rest of us go to 'ell! There are twenty women and four children aboard, too; and we're guaranteed by the German Government! It would serve 'im right if we made 'im walk the plank, like they used to do. But drowning's too good for 'im. If we put 'im in irons 'e'll know we're on the watch, and that'll ease 'is mind too much. I know what to do with 'im when we get 'im on the other side. But in the meantime we'll give that little bit of sauerkraut a taste of 'is own medicine. 'Ere's the idea: We've got enough of the code to work it. We'll give him another radiogram to take to bed with 'im to-night. 'Ow's this? Steward, get me one of them yellow telegraph forms and one of the proper envelopes. We'll fix it all up in good shape. And, look 'ere, steward; not a word about this to any one, you understand?"

The steward departed on his errand. Captain Abbey took another sheet of paper and laboriously, with tongue outthrust, constructed a sentence, consulting the purser's two columns from time to time, and occasionally chuckling as he altered or added a word.

The purser slapped his thighs with delight as he followed the work over the captain's shoulder; and when the form arrived he wrote out the captain's composition in a very large, clear hand, with the fervor of a man announcing good news. Then he licked the flap of the yellow envelope, closed it, addressed it and handed it to the steward.

"Give this wireless message to Mr. Neilsen in half an hour. Tell him it has just arrived. If there is any reply to-night he must send it before twelve o'clock."

"I 'ope that will make 'im sit up and think," said Captain Abbey. "I'll consider what steps I'd better take to save the ship; and then I shall probably 'ave a wireless or two of my own to send elsewhere."

Mr. Neilsen was greatly excited when the steward knocked at his door and handed him the second wireless message. He opened it with trembling fingers and read:

Still more successful. Uncle Hyacinth's tonsils removed. Appetite now colossal. Bless him. Taking large quantities frozen meat.

He could hardly wait to translate it. He sat down on his suitcase again, and spelled it out with the help of his Number Six, word by word, refusing to believe his eyes, refusing even to read it as a consecutive sentence till the bottom of the two parallel columns had been reached, thus: