"A cablegram from Pernambuco states specifically that the captain and crew of the _Andromeda_ fought their way across the island of Fernando Noronha, rescued Dom De Sylva, seized a steam launch, attacked and captured the German steamship _Unser Fritz_, and landed the insurgent leader at Maceio. The message goes on to say that the captain's name is Coke, and that he is accompanied by his daughter. . . . Eh? What did you say? . . . Are you there?" "Yes, I'm 'ere, or I think I am," said David with a desperate calmness. "Is that all?" "All for the present." "It doesn't say that Coke is a ravin', tearin', 'owlin' lunatic, does it?" "No. Is that your view?" Bulmer's hand gripped David's wrist. Their eyes met. "I was thinkin' that the chap who writes these penny novelette wires might 'ave rounded up his yarn in good shape," said Verity aloud. "But there is not the slightest doubt that something of the kind has occurred," said the voice. "It's a put-up job!" roared David. "Them bloomin' Portygees 'ave sunk my ship, an' they're whackin' in their flam now so as to score first blow. A year-old baby 'ud see that if 'is father was a lawyer." The sub-editor laughed. "Well, I'll ring you up again when the next message comes through," he said. But to Bulmer, David said savagely: "Wot's bitten Coke? 'E must 'ave gone stark, starin' mad." "Iris is alive!" murmured Bulmer. "Nice mess she med of things w'en she slung 'er 'ook from Linden 'Ouse," grunted her uncle. "I don't blame 'er. She meant no 'arm. She's on'y a bit of a lass, w'en all is said an' done. Mebbe it's my fault, or yours, or the fault of both of us. An' now, David, I'll tell you wot I 'ad in me mind in comin' 'ere this morning. You're hard up. You don't know where to turn for a penny. If you're agreeable, I'll put a trustworthy man in this office an' give 'im full powers to pull your affairs straight. Mind you, I'm doin' this for Iris, not for you. An' now that we know wot's 'appening in South America, you an' I will go out there and look into things. A mail steamer will take us there in sixteen days, an' before we sail we can work the cables a bit so as to stop Iris from startin' for 'ome before we arrive. The trip will do us good, an' we'll be away from the gossip of Bootle. Are you game? Well, gimme your 'and on it." [Illustration: "Well, gimme your 'and on it"] CHAPTER XII THE LURE OF GOLD "Philip, I want to tell you something." "Something pleasant?" "No." "Then why tell me?" "Because, unhappily, it must be told. I hope you will forgive me, though I shall never forgive myself. Oh, my dear, my dear, why did we ever meet? And what am I to say? I--well, I have promised to marry another man." "Disgraceful!" said Philip. Though Iris's faltered confession might fairly be regarded as astounding, Philip was unmoved. The German captain had given him a cigar, and he was examining it with a suspicion that was pardonable after the first few whiffs.