"You sent for me," he said crisply, in a matter-of-fact way, even more businesslike than that of his host. "What is the question? Can I be of service?" "Certainly, Major. There is a globe; you know already that we have been, as it were, challenged to tour the world, to make a complete circle of the globe. Well, then, choose a route for us. Commander Jackson suggests an all-red route, which shall take us over British possessions. If that meets with your approval, well and good. If not, then where shall we go--what course shall we steer?" For answer the Major slowly rose from his seat, and, crossing to the table, carefully and critically examined the globe. Then he drew a packet of papers from his pocket, and, selecting one, handed it to Andrew. "For me all courses are the same," he said with a smile; "but since I take it that from here to the centre of Europe is but a step for this magnificent vessel, I should be glad of the opportunity of visiting one part comparatively but a stone's throw from here. I speak of the Balkans. Please read that letter." Andrew slowly opened the envelope, drew out the contents, and then donned his glasses. Adjusting them at the correct angle upon his nose, he held the letter up and read aloud. "Adrianople, Thursday evening, 16 January, 1913." "Adrianople!" cried the Commander. "That's the city now besieged for so long by the Bulgarian armies." "Quite so; closely besieged," admitted the Major. "Very closely." "Ahem!" Andrew cleared his throat. "You wish me to read it aloud?" he asked, waving the letter at the Major. "Certainly." "Then here it is. 'Dear Harvey, I write to inform you that I am held here in Adrianople, and should the siege continue much longer, the value of the information I have gained will be lost. But I cannot dispatch it in this letter. This must pass the scrutiny of both friends and enemies. Therefore it but announces my presence here, where I live as best I can. Please explain my continued absence to our mutual friends. Yours, Charlie.'" Andrew took his glasses from his nose slowly, glanced sideways at the letter, and then direct at the Major. There was a puzzled look upon his face, a polite enquiry as much as to say, "Well, my dear sir, I don't understand. What has your friend Charlie to do with us? He's in Adrianople; so are scores of others. There's a British consul there, no doubt. Why should we go to this besieged city?" Commander Jackson coughed; similar thoughts were passing through his quick brain also, though he gave his soldier friend credit for astuteness and common sense. "Must be something behind this letter," he said aloud.