“You don’t know how anxious you are to return until you meet all the dainty little Japanese maidens waiting to serve you with all sorts of nice things to eat and drink,” she said smiling. “Besides,” she added archly, “I haven’t met all our officers from the ‘Alaska.’ I know, of course, that Mr. Philip Perry is a host in himself, but----” “I am sorry you think me so selfish and self-centred,” he interrupted, much confused. “You are so different from what I expected,” he blurted out. “I thought you were only a little girl. Won’t you forgive me for sending you all those senseless messages in my letters to your father?” Helen bit her lips. “Oh, it was very nice of you to send them,” she said. “Would you mind introducing me to Mr. Impey?” Phil asked, bravely changing the subject and speaking the wish uppermost in his mind. “I’d like to apologize for my rudeness to him. I did not know, until Lieutenant Winston told me, that ladies were in the machine.” While talking they had approached the refreshment tent, and Helen was at once surrounded by Phil’s messmates from the “Alaska,” all anxious for an introduction. The two midshipmen soon found themselves on the outskirts of the crowd. Helen had promised the introduction to Mr. Impey if Phil would only locate him, so the two companions drifted along on the lookout for him. “I have an idea, Syd,” Phil whispered, “that this Mr. Impey of the automobile is the conspirator I overheard on the train. Here’s a chance for some nice work to run him to earth if he is. A voice is a dangerous identification to pin much faith upon, but people have been betrayed by that means in lots of criminal cases.” “Don’t put too much confidence in such an airy clue,” Sydney replied; “but it’s worth investigation, at all events.” Leaving Sydney with Captain Rodgers, Phil strolled slowly away on his quest for the owner of the automobile. The crowd about him was dense, and he soon saw the hopelessness of locating even a familiar face in such a throng. Dazed by the crowd and still speculating upon Impey’s identity, his eyes were on the gravel path. Suddenly a Japanese lieutenant barred his way. The lad politely stepped aside for him to pass. Then he was aware that this naval man had prodded him in the ribs. A flush of annoyance came into his face. It was not pleasant to have one’s thoughts so rudely interrupted. He raised his eyes and gazed blankly at a Japanese officer standing directly in his path and laughing heartily up at him. Phil was conscious of even white teeth and a deep black moustache. No spark of recognition came to him as he once more stepped aside, murmuring an apology for his awkwardness. But the obstacle still was in front of him. “Perry! how are you, Perry!” The naval officer’s English, with scarce an accent, opened the flood-gates of memory.