d glared at me. "It has happened again,"
he groaned. "The _Antigone_ this time. She has been in dry dock for
the past fortnight and was floated out yesterday. Her full complement
joined her last night. Dawson says that he was called up at
eight-o'clock by the news that her gun-wires have been cut exactly
like those of the _Antinous_ and in the same incomprehensible way. He
seems, curiously enough, to be quite cheerful about it."

"He has had a few hours sleep. And, besides, he sees that this second
case, so exactly like the first, makes the solution of his problem
very much more easy. I am glad that he is cheerful, for I feel
exuberantly happy myself. I was kept awake half the night by a
persistent notion which seemed the more idiotic the more I thought all
round it. But now--now, there may be something in it."

"What is your idea? Tell me quick."

"No, thank you, Dr. Watson. We amateur masters of intuition don't work
our thrilling effects in that way. We keep our notions to ourselves
until they turn out to be right, and then we declare that we saw
through the problem from the first. When we have been wrong, we say
nothing. So you observe, Cary, that whatever happens our reputations
do not suffer."

CHAPTER VI

GUESSWORK

Cary tried to shake my resolution, but I was obdurately silent. While
he canvassed the whole position, bringing to bear his really profound
knowledge of naval equipment and routine--and incidentally helping me
greatly to realise the improbability of my own guesswork solution--I
was able to maintain an air of lofty superiority. I must have
aggravated him intensely, unpardonably, for I was his guest. He ought
to have kicked me out. Yet he bore with me like the sweet-blooded
kindly angel that he is, and when at the end it appeared that I was
right after all, Cary was the first to pour congratulations and honest
admiration upon me. If he reads this book he will know that I am
repentant--though I must confess that I should behave in just the same
abominable way if the incident were to occur again. There is no great
value in repentance such as this.

We reached Dawson's office in the early afternoon, and found his chief
assistant there, but no Dawson. "The old man," remarked that officer,
a typical, stolid, faithful detective sergeant, "is out on the
rampage. He ought by rights to sit here directing the staff and leave
the outside investigations to me. He is a high-up man, almost a deputy
a