These thoughts had been frequently in his mind, but he had resolutely driven them from him. Now they were nearing another port, a great commercial cross-ways of the travel world. Here again he was coming within the grasp of the law. He was not too certain that all had been given up, in that questioning pursuit of the Princess and her party. That broken door lock might yet admit the hand of legal vengeance. "And that Duke? He'll try to earn that five thousand dollars surely enough now. Well, I'd better be worrying over my own future instead of the dead past. They've said 'let the dead past bury itself, and don't climb the graveyard fence.' That's good logic. But I'd better be looking toward some of the fences ahead. I wonder what is on the paper?" He returned to his stateroom, where Rusty was dozing in a chair, waiting for the good-night instructions. Jarvis sat down and studied the fragment. He sat bolt upright, at first with rage and then a growing amusement. "Look here, Rusty. This Duke is trying to put one over on me," he declared, waking his servant. "Huh? What's dat, Marse Warren?" and Rusty rubbed his eyes drowsily. "Do you see what this paper is?" "Looks like a telegram letter, boss." "That's a wireless blank, Rusty. It has never been sent. It is the first draft. See--the words are crossed out here, and a sentence changed there. The person who wrote this message tried to save money, by cutting it down, just as we, back home, waste a dollar's worth of time, trying to shorten a telegraph message into ten words. Isn't that reasonable?" "Yassir. But what does it mean? I don't read no sich langwidge." Jarvis smiled. "It's in Spanish. It's addressed to Scotland Yard, in London." "What's dat? Is it some schoolhouse lot?" "It's detective headquarters, Rusty. And it is about me." "About you-all!" Rusty was wide awake by this time, in all truth. He had an instinctive suspicion of anything connected with brass buttons and detectives. "Yes. It warns Scotland Yard that a man named Warren, on this steamship, is wanted by the New York police, and that I should be arrested before the passengers can leave." "Who signed dat mizzable contraption?" "It isn't signed, Rusty. The only person who writes Spanish and who could be so deeply interested in my wickedness is that high and mighty relative of the Princess. He wrote it in Spanish so the wireless operator probably wouldn't notice or understand the message." "Well, Marse Warren, dis is a ship--dey alluz has ropes. Can't you climb overboard when she is hitched to de wharfboat?" Jarvis was thinking rapidly. He looked at his watch. "The detectives will come on with the pilot boat, Rusty, which I understand meets the _Mauretania_ about eight or ten miles offshore. There won't be any chance on the wharfboat. But that gives me a good idea--however, it doesn't seem right to make the Duke of Alva waste his hard-earned coin on wireless messages. There's no free list with Marconi, you know."