“I see you’re not going to help me out, Mr. Cheyne, and I suppose I can scarcely wonder at it. Well, I’ll get ahead without further delay. But, as I’ve a good deal to say, I should suggest you sit down, and if you don’t mind, I’ll smoke. Try one of these Coronas; they were given to me, so you needn’t mind taking one. No? I wonder would you mind if I rang and ordered some coffee and rolls? I’ve not breakfasted yet and I’m hungry.” With a bad grace Cheyne rang the bell. “Coffee and rolls for two,” Dangle ordered when an attendant came to the door. “You will join me, won’t you? Even if my mission comes to nothing and we remain enemies, there’s no reason why we should make our interview more unpleasant than is necessary.” Cheyne strode up and down the room. “But I don’t want the confounded interview,” he exclaimed angrily. “For goodness’ sake get along and say what you have to say and clear out. I haven’t forgotten the _Enid_.” “No, that was illegal, wasn’t it? Almost as bad as breaking and entering, burglary and theft. But now, there’s no kind of sense in squabbling. Sit down and listen and I’ll tell you a story that will interest you in spite of yourself.” “I shouldn’t wonder,” Cheyne said with sarcasm as he flung himself into a chair, “but if it’s going to be more lies about St. John Price and the Hull succession you may save your breath.” Dangle smiled whimsically. “It was for your sake, Mr. Cheyne; perhaps not quite legitimate, but still done with the best intention. I told him that yarn—I admit, of course, it was a yarn—simply to make it easy for you to give up the letter. I knew that nothing would induce you to part with it if you thought it dishonorable; hence the story.” Cheyne laughed harshly. “And what will be the object of the new yarn?” “This time it won’t be a yarn. I will tell you the truth.” “And you expect me to believe it?” Dangle leaned forward and spoke more earnestly. “You will believe it, not, I’m afraid, because I tell it, but because it is capable of being checked. A great portion of it can be substantiated by inquiries at the Admiralty and elsewhere, and your reason will satisfy you as to the remainder.” “Well, go on and get it over anyway.” Dangle once more smilingly shrugged his shoulders, lit his cigar and began: “My tale commences as before with our mutual friend, Arnold Price, and once again it goes back to the year 1917. In February of ’17 Arnold Price was, as you know, third mate of the _Maurania_, and I was on the same ship in command of her bow gun—she had guns mounted fore and aft. I hadn’t known Price before, but we became friends—not close friends, but as intimate as most men who are cooped up together for months on the same ship.