"I've heard of you," he said, "and I was anxious to meet you. What d'you think of that toy?" He nodded aft at a web of wire-coils, vulcanite levers and brass keys, standing beneath a wooden shelter in the stern. Three or four officers from the Fleet were gathered round it with note-books in their hands testing and adjusting amid its intricacies. "I've been lookin' at it," admitted the big man non-committally. "It sounds like a cinch, but I understand it ain't perfect yet?" "Not by what you might call a long chalk," was the dry reply. The big man looked relieved. "That's all right," he said. "Because when it is I guess I can go right along and get to bed. That little outfit's going to finish the war, sir." "Hardly," said Sir William. "But it's intended to help things in that direction. Unfortunately, you see, there's still a factor--what we call an unknown quantity----" He lapsed into technical explanations. The other listened for a while and then shook his head. "Maybe you're right," he said, "but I couldn't say. I'm no scholar--ran away from school too young. But it seems to me----" He lifted a booted foot and rested it on the low gunwale, "Workin' at long distances, there's the pull of the tides...." Sir William's eyeglass dropped. He recovered it and screwed it home. "Am I right, sir?" asked the big man. "You are," said the Scientist. "You've studied tides, too, have you?" The Submarine Hunter chuckled. "I've learned to respect 'em," he replied dryly. "Down the Malay Archipelago I learned something about tides, spittin' overboard from salvage craft...." He stood upright. "Well, sir, we'd better get to business. These gentlemen here are the brains of the party"--he nodded at the group aft. "I'm only in the picture to put them wise as to certain practical conditions of the game...." He dropped his voice to a confidential undertone as they walked aft. "The Navy scares me. It's so damned big, and there's so much gold lace--and it's so almighty efficient...." Half an hour's discussion settled the _modus operandi_ for the experiment. The Submarine Commander rose from the gunwale and tossed away his cigarette-end, then he grinned at the Submarine Hunter who stood with one shoulder against the structure aft, shredding tobacco into the palm of his hand. "Gardez-vous, Old Sport!" he said, as he began to climb down into the dinghy, where Sir William joined him. "That's French, ain't it?" said the Submarine Hunter. "Don't speak the lingo." One of the Naval officers standing by the apparatus laughed. "It's a challenge," he said. "Means 'Mind your eye!'" The Hunter jerked his clasp knife in the direction of the fore-hatch. "I can mind it all right," he replied grimly, and laughed with a sudden disconcerting bark of amusement. * * * * *