"It is vital that I should examine the strap and see those scratches!" The Minister answered: "To-morrow morning by twelve o’clock—I can obtain you an opportunity. The recovered valise, or wallet, or satchel, will be brought up to the Admiralty by the officer commanding E-131. She has not yet arrived in harbour. But the Commander will doubtless receive instructions as soon as he reports himself." He continued, gracefully ignoring his previous statement that the Government had decided not to interfere: "In the absence of the Earl of Clanronald, now yachting in Northern waters, it is obligatory that the War Office should take the matter in hand." The very tall stranger had wheeled, and advanced to Sir Roland with a smile and an outstretched hand of greeting. We know how great a heart beat in its pulses. Its short, hard grip spoke sympathy and understanding, though the voice was harsh and the light grey eyes stared out of the brick-burned, heavily-moustached face with the old sagacious, indomitable regard. He said after a word or two had passed, the Admiralty Secretary temporarily occupying the attention of the War Minister: "By the way, you will be interested to hear something I have at first-hand from Clanronald. He has been, as perhaps you know, cruising with two ancient cronies, Lord Gaynor and Colonel Kaye, in his steam-yacht _Helga_, along the Danish West Coast of Jutland. He returns the richer by—what I may term a unique experience!" Sir Roland said, meeting the Sirdar’s eyes with great certainty: "If I may guess at the nature of the experience, I should hazard that it was—an attempt in the kidnapping line?" The other gave his short, gruff laugh: "You have hit it. They carry a Wireless installation on the _Helga_, and sparked the story _via_ Cullercoats to Bredingley, who was stopping a week-end at Doome. The yacht was at anchorage in the outer harbour of Esbjorg, some twenty-eight kilometres from the frontier of Danish-Germany. It was midnight. Everybody on board, including the watch, seems to have been asleep except Clanronald, who was roused by something scraping the side of the yacht. Presently he heard stealthy footsteps on deck, and whispering. He was squatting on his bunk with a brace of loaded revolvers and a Winchester repeating-rifle, when the intruders opened his cabin door!" "Did any of them survive the intrusion? If so, Clanronald has—very much changed!" The Sirdar returned, with the quirk of a smile lurking under the heavy moustache whose brown was getting flecked with grey: "Well—the _Helga_ has recently been re-enamelled, and Clanronald is faddy on the point of his new paint. Besides"—the quirk deepened into a laugh—"he thought it would be more useful to take them as live specimens of the kind of material that goes to make up the crew of a German submarine." They looked at each other, laughing. Sir Roland inquired: