"Thank you," said the jurist. "That is my retainer. You have employed counsel." "The best counsel in New York," added Dr. Alderson. "The best counsel in New York," agreed the judge with unmoved solemnity; "in certain respects. Specializes in maritime and cardiac complications. You go out on deck and walk some air into Alderson's brain until I come back. He needs it. He doesn't know enough not to return a suit when his partner leads the nine." "When one's partner is stupid enough to open a suit--" began the other; but the critic was gone. "So you've found out that Little Miss Grouch is Cecily Wayne, have you?" Alderson observed, turning to the Tyro. "Whatever that may mean," assented the Tyro. "It means a good deal. It means that she's Hurry-up Wayne's daughter for one thing." "That also fails to ring any bell. You see, I've been so long out of the world. Besides, I don't want to be told about her. I'm under bonds." "Very well. But the _paterfamilias_ is a tough customer. I looked up some old records for him once, and was obliged to tell him a few plain facts in plainer English. He appeared to want me to give false expert testimony. To do him justice, he didn't resent my well-chosen remarks; only observed that he could doubtless hire other historians with different views." "Was that about the Battery Place house?" "Precisely. But how do you know--Oh, of course! You've got a sort of intangible interest in that, haven't you? Through your maternal grandmother." "I've got more than that. I've got an option." "Great Rameses! Are you the mysterious holder of the option?" Dr. Alderson laughed long and softly. "This is lovely! Does she know?" "If she does, it hasn't shaken her confidence." "Hire Enderby to unravel that," chuckled the other. "Here he comes back already. His interview must have been brief." The lawyer approached, halted, set his back against the rail, and gazed grimly at the Tyro over his lowered spectacles. His client braced himself for the impending examination. "Young man," the judge inquired, "what do you legally call yourself?" "Smith. Alexander Forsyth Smith." "What do you call yourself when you don't call yourself Smith?" "Er--you heard! I've sometimes been called Daddleskink by those who don't know any better. That was only a little joke." "It's a joke which Captain Herford seems to have taken to heart. He thinks you're a dangerous criminal traveling under the subtle _alias_ of Smith." "Can he lock me up for that?" "Doubtless he can. But I don't think he will. Who's been sending back wireless messages about you?" "Wireless? About me? Heaven knows; I don't." "Could it have been Mrs. Charlton Denyse?" "If they were uncomplimentary, it might. I'm afraid she doesn't approve of me." "They seem to have been distinctly unfavorable. That Denyse female," continued the veteran lawyer, "is a raddled old polecat. Mischief is her specialty. How did she get on your trail?" The Tyro explained.