"You will get this letter and the enclosed lists and tables from our Ambassador in London, who will give you every facility for granting Imperial commissions for your ships and officers, and every information he can. "I know enough of your service to think that if you take command of this expedition you will advance your prospects, and the opportunity of doing this I have very great pleasure in giving you. "Wire me your decision and plans; don’t worry about money—haste is the great thing.—Your sincere friend, "PING SANG. "TIENTSIN, _17th March._ "_P.S._—If you do not accept the command it will be offered to Lieutenant Albrecht of the Imperial German Navy. "I hope the Doctor with the broad shoulders and terrible fists is well. Give him my ’chin chin’, and bring him with you if you can." Helston finished reading, and both men stared at each other in blank amazement, whilst Jenkins commenced stealthily to remove the breakfast things. "Well, of all the hare-brained, foolish schemes I ever heard of!" gasped the Doctor. "There’s something in it, old chap. Ping Sang was one of the richest mandarins in China when we were out there many years ago. A splendid chap, as you remember, and practically an Englishman in his ideas—he went to Charterhouse when he was a boy—and besides, his Government has taken it up, and I have to report myself to the Admiralty; so they believe in it, evidently. Why, old man," continued Helston, "if this is all true I shall get promotion out of it, and that means—you know as well as I do—that means Milly." And he danced about the room as if he never had had fever in his rheumatic legs. "Stop that tomfoolery, and go off to London and find out whether it’s all a mare’s nest or not," said the Doctor. "Jenkins, go and get the Commander’s things ready at once." "For China, sir?" "No. For London, you fool!" "Very good, sir," and off went Jenkins. "Well, good-bye, Helston, I’m off round the practice. Don’t make an ass of yourself, and let me know the result." By the time the Doctor returned Helston had disappeared, and it was late that evening when a telegram brought news of him. The Doctor hurriedly opened it: "Job genuine—accepted command. Send all clothes—cannot return—too busy."