“By the first letter which I erased and which was found, you shall know me.” “That settles it in my mind,” I said. “That’s known to not more than a dozen people, and none of them would be sending this.” Tom, meanwhile, had stepped into the next room, and was talking quietly to his assistant. He spoke to me. “Keep him going a minute, Jim. I want to get a message from him.” “Is there anything more you wish to know?” I asked the man by wireless. “Nothing,” he replied. “Do you wish to say anything to me?” I could hear Tom’s excited voice. “Got it?” “Just once more, Jim,” he said. “There is nothing more,” went out from the aerial. “Then I thank you for telling me of this. You have spared me and spared others much by your wisdom. Good-bye.” “Good-bye,” I ended, as Tom stepped from the ’phone, his face beaming. “Quickest thing on record, that. I got my man to set the machine for the wireless waves ‘the man’ is using, and got two records, both from Tokio. That settles it, once for all.” The storm was still at its height. The house rocked with the wind, but the wild moan of the breakers, forgotten while we talked with the man on the other side of the world, now made their presence manifest. The single light within shone on blackened beam and rough hewn settle, into dim but spotless corners, on glistening tile and dark polished floor. Our little group in modern costume, standing about the table where the instruments were placed, seemed an anachronism. We should have been garbed like Rembrandt’s models, and in place of key, relay and coherer, there should have been simply one massive oaken table. Tom turned to Regnier. “Do you know, Dick, what happened to your head?” “Sh,” said Dorothy, looking quickly at Regnier. Regnier smiled as he saw her movement. “You needn’t worry, Dorothy. I shall be very glad to tell you all I can.” He turned to Tom. “I think the injury to my head came from the man who stopped all war.” CHAPTER XX “You don’t mean that literally,” exclaimed Tom. Regnier nodded quietly. “I mean that I believe my memory was deliberately taken from me by the man who stopped all war, when he found I was on the track of his secret. But it’s rather a long story, and it’s well on towards morning. Shall we have it now, or put off the tale till to-morrow?” “To-night, by all means,” answered Tom. “That is, providing you feel up to it.” “I feel perfectly fit now,” said Regnier, “so if you all want to hear it, I’ll go back to the very beginning and tell it all.” We settled down to listen. Tom threw some coal, with a lavish hand, into the small firepot of the great Dutch stove. “Now this is cosy. Go ahead, Dick, with your yarn.” Dorothy beside me on the big settle gave my hand one squeeze, and echoed Tom’s words. “Go ahead, Dick.”