n.

"Miss Dalrymple sent me."

Mr. Heatherbloom's interest was manifest; he strove to suppress outward
signs of it. "What--what for?"

"She wanted to make sure you were not dead."

The prisoner did not answer; his emotion was too great at the moment to
permit his doing so. She was in trouble, yet she considered the poor
detective. That was like her--straight as a string--true blue--

The visitor started to go. "Hold on!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, whose ideas
were surging fast. This youth had managed to come here at her
instigation. Had she made a friend of him, an ally? He did not appear an
heroic one, but he was, no doubt, the best that had offered. Betty
Dalrymple was not one to sit idly; she would seek ways and means. She
was clever, knew how to use those violet eyes. (Did not Mr. Heatherbloom
himself remember?) Who was he--this nocturnal caller? Not an officer--he
was too young. Cabin-boy, perhaps? More likely the operator. Mr.
Heatherbloom had noticed that the yacht was provided with the wireless
outfit.

"How long have I been here?" he now asked abruptly.

"It is three days since monsieur was knocked on the head."

Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "Three days? Well, it cost me a fortune,"
he sighed, remembering the role of detective that had been thrust upon
him. "I could have stood for the sore head."

The other had his foot at the threshold but he lingered. "How much of a
fortune? What was the reward?" He strove to speak carelessly but there
was a trace of eagerness in his tones.

"You mean what _is_ it?" returned Mr. Heatherbloom, and named an amount
large enough to make the soulful eyes open. "And to think," watchfully,
"one little message to the shore might procure for the sender such a
sum!"

"Monsieur!" Indignantly. "You think that I would--"

"Then you _are_ the wireless operator?"

"I was." Francois spoke more calmly. "His excellency has had the
apparatus destroyed. He will take no chances of other spies or
detectives being aboard who might understand its use."

The prisoner hardly heard the last words; for the moment he was
concerned only with his disappointment. A sudden hope had died almost as
soon as it had been born. "Too bad!" he murmured. Then--"How did you get
here?"

"The third officer has the keys and our cabins are adjoining. I seized
an opportune moment, slipped in, and took a wax impression of what I
wanted. Then with an old key and a file--Monsieur is a great detective,
perhaps