Sir William Thorogood, hat in hand, with his cloak over his arm, entered the ante-room. His eyeglass fell from his eye. "Hullo, Uncle Bill," exclaimed his nephew. "You're early--nice and early--we've just started training for the Regatta and we're straffing the coxswain by way of a start! Er--Staff Surgeon Tucker, Sir William Thorogood." The Surgeon advanced with a rather embarrassed grin and shook hands with the eminent scientist. "I fancy I knew your father once," said the latter smiling. "He held the chair of Comparative Anatomy--we were at college together--bless me!--a good many years ago now." He stood smiling down at Pills from his lean height. The Mess chortled at the Surgeon's discomfiture. Thorogood turned to the Commander who had just then entered. "This is Commander Hornby," he said, and introduced the two men. "There's Mouldy--you remember him?" Mouldy Jakes came over and shook hands gravely. "And this is the rest of the Mess." He included the remainder with a wave of his hand, and Sir William acknowledged the informal general introduction with the grave, smiling self-possession of the perfectly bred Englishman. "Now," said his nephew, "what about a cocktail, Uncle Bill?" "Yes," said Mouldy Jakes, sharing with his friend the responsibility of entertaining this eminent guest. "We've got rather a good brand--fizzy ones. Do you a power of good, sir!" Sir William laughed. "Thank you," he said, "but fizzy cocktails and I came to the parting of the ways more years ago than I care to remember. Perhaps I may be allowed to join you in a glass of sherry....?" "Rather," said his host, and gave the order. "Well, Uncle Bill," he said, "what brings you up to Ultima Thule and on board the Flagship?" The Scientist helped himself to a biscuit from the tray on a little table near the door. "I'm staying with--with an old friend for a few days, for a change of air," he said. He took the proffered glass of sherry and sipped it appreciatively. "May I congratulate you on your excellent sherry?" "It's not bad," said Mouldy Jakes. "I'm the wine caterer," he added modestly. At this juncture dinner was announced and they passed through into the long Wardroom. Shaded electric lights hung down above the table that traversed the length of the Mess. A number of ornamental pieces of silver and trophies adorned the centre of the table and winked and glistened against the dark mahogany. Slips of white napery ran down on either side, on which the glasses, silver and cutlery lay. They took their places, the presidential hammer tapped, and the Chaplain, rising, offered brief thanks. Immediately after a buzz of conversation broke out generally. Sir William, on the right of the President, indicated the glittering trophies. "I see you keep your plate on board," he said, smiling, "even in war."