a march on the world. Every time the Z99 was out they worked up here with their improvised wireless until they found the wave-length Shirley was using. It took fifteen or twenty minutes, but they managed, finally, to interfere so that they sent the submarine to the bottom of the harbour. Instead of being the criminal, Burke, Mrs. Brainard is the victim, the victim both of Nordheim and of her servants."
Craig had thrown open a window and had dropped down on his knees before a little stove by which the room was heated. He was poking eagerly in a pile of charred paper and linen.
"Shirley," he cried, "your secret is safe, even though the duplicate plans were stolen. There will be no more interference."
The Captain seized Craig by both hands and wrung them like the handle of a pump.
"Oh, thank you—thank you—thank you," cried Gladys, running up and almost dancing with joy at the change in her father. "I—I could almost—kiss you!"
"I could let you," twinkled Craig, promptly, as she blushed deeply. "Thank you, too, Mrs. Brainard," he added, turning to acknowledge her congratulations also. "I am glad I have been able to be of service to you."
"Won't you come back to the house for dinner?" urged the Captain.
Kennedy looked at me and smiled. "Walter," he said, "this is no place for two old bachelors like us."
Then turning, he added, "Many thanks, sir,—but,
