"That's bad--small place--poor telegraph," Wendell was muttering, his forehead wrinkled so that it suggested sixty rather than twenty-three. Up went the trap in the top of the cab. "Drive to the Eastern Telegraph Company, Old Broad Street. And you get an extra fare if you do it quickly." "What are you going to do there?" Carter inquired, as the cab began a mad dash down St. James's Street on its way to the City and Old Broad Street. "Why, a very simple thing. I'm going to try to get a full account of this disaster, and print it in New York before an account is printed in England. Tripoli is miles away from nowhere at all. These English papers are very slow. I propose to show them what American enterprise is." "But they are sure to be first with such a story as this, about their own navy. You have no correspondent there." "Neither have they. I have a scheme, and the beauty of it is that even if these English fellows think of it they will dismiss it without a trial as too absurd." "Then you admit there is practically no chance?" "Chance? I don't admit that there is such a thing as chance. I know that it is my duty to do something. This is the only thing I can think of. The others will be hopeless and will do nothing." At the Eastern Telegraph Building Wendell stopped in the office on the first floor long enough to write this despatch: To the telegraph agent, Tripoli, Syria.--The New York _Intelligence_ will pay the telegraph tolls and £200 ($1000) for two thousand words full describing the _Victoria_ disaster. Send at once to Wendell, London. Then he went up stairs, straight to the general manager. That important person read the despatch with increasing derision, which he did not take the trouble to conceal. "The rate from Tripoli to London is a shilling a word," he said. "Two thousand words will cost you a hundred pounds, five hundred dollars. The operator or agent at Tripoli is an ignorant Turk, who, without doubt, knows not a word of English. Tripoli is on the Turkish government lines, and we cannot send the money to him to pay for the despatch. He never heard of the New York _Intelligence_. You practically ask him to spend a hundred pounds with no prospect of ever seeing it again." "Very true," said Wendell, and he took the despatch and added to it. "Will start money as soon as despatch is received." Then he gave it back to the manager, saying: "No harm to try. If I fail, I shall be out only the eleven dollars this telegram will cost me. If I win--" He laughed, and the manager relented. "I'll mark it so that it shall be rushed through, and I'll add my own guarantee," he said, with abrupt courtesy. "As soon as an answer comes, if an answer does come, I'll see that you get it."