sheets when he was awakened by a very slight tapping at his door.
"Who is there?" he cried.
"It is I," came the thin voice of the Professor.
Stranleigh turned on the electric light.
"Come in!" he shouted; and Marlow entered.
"What's the matter? Are you ill?" asked Stranleigh, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"No. You don't need the electric light. Draw your curtains. It's morning."
"Morning? Nonsense! What hour is it?"
"Half-past seven. I have received a despatch from Mackeller."
"Maledictions on his early rising!" cried his lordship, with indignation. "If the man thinks I've left him in my house to rouse me at half-past seven in the morning, he's mistaken. You can't send an electric spark through and paralyse him, I suppose? If anything from Mackeller comes at this untimely hour of the morning, tell the operator to put a little salt on it, and keep it until ten o'clock at least. Half-past seven? Blow Mackeller! He ought to be a farm labourer."
"Well, it's my fault, Lord Stranleigh. I thought this was so serious that you should see it at once. It may be that you'll need to turn in to the nearest port and get back immediately to London."
"Lord save us! What's the matter? Give it
