"Well, sir," exclaimed Ted's father. "Why not call up again? Perhaps Mr Stendel may be there now." Again Rodwell placed his expert hand upon the tapping-key, and once more tapped out the call in the dot-and-dash of the Morse Code. For a full minute all three men waited, holding their breath and watching the receiver. Suddenly there was a sharp click on the recorder. "Click--click, click, click!" The answering signals were coming up from beneath the sea. "B.S.Q." was heard on the "sounder," while the pale green tape slowly unwound, recording the acknowledgment. Stendel was there, in the cable-station far away on the long, low-lying island of Wangeroog--alert at last, and ready to receive any message from the secret agents of the All Highest of Germany. "B.S.Q.--B.S.Q."--came up rapidly from beneath the sea. "I am here. Who are you?" answered the wire rapidly, in German. Lewin Rodwell's heart beat quickly when he heard the belated reply to his impatient summons. He had fully believed that a breakdown had occurred. And if so, it certainly could never be repaired. But a thrill of pleasure stirred him anew when he saw that his harsh and premature denunciation of the Smalls had been unwarranted, and the cable connection--so cunningly contrived five years before, was working as usual from shore to shore. Cable-telegraphy differs, in many respects, from ordinary land-telegraphy, especially in the instruments used. Those spread out before Rodwell were, indeed, a strange and complicated collection, with their tangled and twisted wires, each of which Rodwell traced without hesitation. In a few seconds his white, well-manicured and expert hand was upon the key again, as the Smalls returned to their living-room, and he swiftly tapped out the message in German: "I am Rodwell. Are you Stendel? Put me through Cuxhaven direct to Berlin: Number Seventy: very urgent." "Yes," came the reply. "I am Stendel. Your signals are good. Wait, and I will put you through direct to Berlin." The "sounder" clicked loudly, and the clockwork of the tape released, causing the narrow paper ribbon to unwind. "S.S." answered Rodwell, the German war-code letters for "All right. Received your message and understand it." Then he took from his pocket his gold cigarette-case, which bore his initials in diamonds on the side, and selecting a cigarette, lit it and smoked while waiting for the necessary connections and relays to be made which would enable him to transmit his message direct to the general headquarters of the German Secret Service in the Koeniger-gratzerstrasse, in Berlin. In patience he waited for a full ten minutes in that close little room, watching the receiving instrument before him. The angry roar of the wintry sea could be heard without, the great breakers rolling in upon the beach, while every now and then the salt spindrift would cut sharply across the little window, which rattled in the gusty wind.