His eyes brightened instantly. "She's still wearing her antenna," he said swiftly over his shoulder. "I'll tell her that something's happened; we must leave, but that we will return." He sat there, frowning intently for a moment, and then dragged the antenna wearily from his head. He touched a switch somewhere, and several softly glowing bulbs turned slowly red and then dark. "You and I," he groaned, "had better go to bed. We overdid it. She understands, I think. Terribly sorry, terribly disappointed. Some sort of celebration planned, I gather. Captain Bonnett!" "Yes, sir?" "You may proceed now as you think best," said Mercer. "We're retiring. Be sure and chart the course back, so we may locate this spot again." "Yes, sir!" said Captain Bonnett. * * * * * When I awoke we were at anchor, our deck barely awash, before the deserted beach of Mercer's estate. Still feeling none too well, Mercer and I made our way to the narrow deck. Captain Bonnett was waiting for us, spruce in his blue uniform, his shoulders bowed as always. "Good morning, gentlemen," he offered, smiling crisply. "The open air seems good, doesn't it?" It did. There was a fresh breeze blowing in from the Atlantic, and I filled my lungs gratefully. I had not realized until that instant just how foul the air below had been. "Very fine, Captain," said Mercer, nodding. "You have signaled the men on shore to send out a boat to take us off?" "Yes, sir; I believe they're launching her now." "And the chart of our course--did the return trip check with the other?" "Perfectly, sir." Captain Bonnett reached in an inner pocket of his double-breasted coat, extracted two folded pages, and extended them, with a little bow, to Mercer. Just as Mercer's eager fingers touched the precious papers, however, the wind whisked them from Bonnett's grasp and whirled them into the water. Bonnett gasped and gazed after them for a split second; then, barely pausing to tear off his coat, he plunged over the side. * * * * * He tried desperately, but before he could reach either one of the tossing white specks, they were washed beneath the surface and disappeared. Ten minutes later, his uniform bedraggled and shapeless, he pulled himself on deck. "I'm sorry, sir," he gasped, out of breath. "Sorrier than I can say. I tried--" Mercer, white-faced and struggling with his emotions, looked down and turned away. "You don't remember the bearings, I suppose?" he ventured tonelessly. "I'm sorry--no." "Thank you, Captain, for trying so hard to recover the papers," said Mercer. "You'd better change at once; the wind is sharp." * * * * * The captain bowed and disappeared down the conning tower. Then Mercer turned to me, and a smile struggled for life. "Well, Taylor, we helped her out, anyway," he said slowly. "I'm sorry that--that Imee will misunderstand when we don't come back."