“It is SO good of you, Mr. Cahoon,” she exclaimed. “And you shan't starve, either. I will have some supper sent in to you at once. You can eat it while you are at work, can't you?” She hurried out to order the supper. Phineas, in accordance with my request, seated himself in the little room adjoining the library, before the telegraph instrument. “Thunder!” he observed, looking about him. “I never expected to send messages for King Solomon in all his glory, but I cal'late I can stand it if Sol can. S'pose there'd be any objection to my takin' off my coat? Comes more nat'ral to work in my shirt sleeves.” I bade him take it off and he did so. “This feller's in some hurry,” he said, nodding toward the clicking instrument. “Shall I tell him we're on deck and ready for business?” “Yes, tell him.” His long fingers busied themselves with the sender. A sharp series of clicks answered the call. Phineas glanced apprehensively out into the library. “Say, he ain't no parson, is he?” he chuckled. “Wants to know what in hell has been the trouble all this time. What'll I tell him?” “Tell him to send particulars concerning L. and T. at once. All the particulars.” The message was sent. The receiver rattled a hasty reply. “He says you know all the particulars already. You must know 'em. Wants to know if this is Mr. Colton.” “Tell him Mr. Colton is here, in the house. That will be true enough. And say we wish all particulars, figures and all. We want to know just where we stand.” The demand for particulars was forwarded. There was more clicking. “Give me a piece of paper and a pencil, quick,” urged Phineas. “This is a long feller.” While he was writing the “long feller,” as the telegraph ticked it off, Miss Colton and the butler appeared, the latter bearing a loaded tray. He drew a little table up beside the operator and placed the tray upon it. Then he went away. The telegraph clicked and clicked and Cahoon wrote. Miss Colton and I watched him anxiously. “Say,” observed Phineas, between intervals of clicks, “this feller's in some loony asylum, ain't he. This is pretty nigh as crazy as that message I fetched down. . . . Here 'tis. Maybe you folks know what it means, I don't. It's forty fathoms long, ain't it.” It was long enough, surely. It was not all in the code jargon--Davis trusted the privacy of the wire sufficiently to send a portion of it in plain English--but he did not trust even that altogether. Miss Colton and I worked it out as we had the first telegram. As the translation progressed I could feel my hair tingling at the roots. Was it to help in such a complication as this that I had been summoned? I, of all people! These waters were too deep for me.