e 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."

"T