ays for a
fortnight or more? B'lieve me or not, Dickey, it cut me to the 'eart
to keep you in the dark about Iris. But I begun it, like an ijjit, an'
kep' on with it."

"To sweeten me on account of the new ships, I s'pose?"

"Yes, that's it. No more lyin' for me. I'm sick of it."

"For the same reason you wanted that letter published?"

"Well--yes. There! You see I'm talkin' straight."

"So am I. If--if Iris is alive, the partnership goes on. If--she's
dead, it doesn't."

"D'ye mean it?"

"I always mean wot I say."

The click of an indicator on the desk showed that Verity's private
telephone had been switched on from the general office. By sheer force
of routine, David picked up a receiver and placed it to his ear. The
sub-editor of the newspaper whose representative had not been gone five
minutes asked if he was speaking to Mr. Verity.

"Yes," said David, "wot's up now?" and he motioned to Bulmer to use a
second receiver.

"A cablegram from Pernambuco states specifically that the captain and
crew of the _Andromeda_ fought their way across the island of Fernando
Noronha, rescued Dom De Sylva, seized a steam launch, attacked and
captured the German steamship _Unser Fritz_, and landed the insurgent
leader at Maceio. The message goes on to say that the captain's name
is Coke, and that he is accompanied by his daughter. . . . Eh? What
did you say? . . . Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm 'ere, or I think I am," said David with a desperate calmness.
"Is that all?"

"All for the present."

"It doesn't say that Coke is a ravin', tearin', 'owlin' lunatic, does
it?"

"No. Is that your view?"

Bulmer's hand gripped David's wrist. Their eyes met.

"I was thinkin' that the chap who writes these penny novelette wires
might 'ave rounded up his yarn in good shape," said Verity aloud.

"But there is not the slightest doubt that something of the kind has
occurred," said the voice.

"It's a put-up job!" roared David. "Them bloomin' Portygees 'ave sunk
my ship, an' they're whackin' in their flam now so as to score first
blow. A year-old baby 'ud see that if 'is father was a lawyer."

The sub-editor laughed.

"Well, I'll ring you up again when the next message comes through," he
said.

But to Bulmer, David said savagely:

"Wot's bitten Coke? 'E must 'ave gone stark, starin' mad."

"Iris is alive!" murmured Bulmer.

"Nice mess she med of things w'en she slung 'er 'ook from Linden
'Ouse," grunted