"She's stationary," explained the officer, "so we've stopped. She has probably upset herself in this sea." "How do you know she is stationary?" asked T. B., for the two faint stars ahead told him nothing. "Got her riding lights," said the other laconically. Those two riding lights stopped the destroyer; it stopped six other destroyers, far out of sight, six obedient cruisers came to a halt, and, a hundred miles or so away, the combined French and German fleets became stationary. All through the night the watchers lay, heaving, rolling, and pitching, like so many logs, on the troubled seas. Dawn broke mistily, but the lights still gleamed. Day came in dull greyness, and the young officer, with his eyes fastened to his binoculars, looked long and earnestly ahead. "I can see a mast," he said doubtfully, "but there's something very curious about it." Then he put down his glasses suddenly, put out his hand, and rang his engines full ahead. He turned to the quartermaster at his side. "Get the Commodore by wireless," he said rapidly; "the _Doro_ has gone." Gone, indeed, was the _Doro_--gone six hours since. They found the lights. They were still burning when the destroyer came up with them. A roughly built raft with a pole lashed upright, and from this was suspended two lanterns. Whilst the fleet had watched this raft, the _Doro_ had gone on. Nailed to the pole was a letter. It was sodden with spray, but T. B. had no difficulty in reading it. "_Cher ami_," it ran, "much as I value the honour of a naval escort, its presence is embarrassing at the moment. I saw your destroyer this morning through my glasses, and guessed the rest. You are ingenious. Now I understand why you allowed me to escape. "My respectful salutations to you, oh, most admirable of policemen!" It was signed, "POLTAVO." * * * * * * * The court-martial held on Lieutenant-Commander George Septimus Marchcourt, on a charge of "neglect of duty, in that he failed to carry out the instructions of his superior officer," resulted in an honourable acquittal for that cheerful young officer. It was an acquittal which had a far-reaching effect, though at the time it did not promise well. T. B. was a witness at the trial, which was a purely formal one, in spite of the attention it excited. He remained at Gibraltar, pending further developments. For the affair of the Nine Men had got beyond Scotland Yard--they were an international problem. T. B. was walking over from La Linea, across the strip of neutral ground which separated Gibraltar from Spain, with Van Ingen, when he confessed that he despaired of ever bringing the Nine to justice. "The nations cannot stand the racket much longer," he said; "these Nine Men are costing civilisation a million a week! Think of it! A million pounds a week! We must either capture them soon or effect a compromise. I am afraid they will make peace on their own terms." "But they must be caught soon," urged the other.