One cannot say, without reflecting upon an eminent firm of safe-makers, whether the burglary would have succeeded but for the captain’s return, but certain it is that the strangers had gone to work in a most scientific manner, and had made amazing progress in the short space of time. The second attempt was made when the ship was two days out of Gibraltar, and was a half-hearted effort to blow open the door of the safe whilst the captain was conducting Church Service in the saloon. No guard had been left in the cabin, the captain thinking that the thieves would be scared at making any further attack, and, too, that they would hardly venture in broad daylight. Again they were disturbed and decamped unseen, leaving two pencils of nitro-glycerine to indicate their intentions. Nor was the third, and final, and--one may suppose--desperate attempt any more successful; but this time the thieves were nearly caught. Captain Talham had seized his revolver the moment the ship went aground, for his crew was in the main Chinese, and he took no risks of a panic. When going back to his cabin to secure a lifebelt, he met the two indefatigable thieves, and there was a sharp exchange of shots. This time the thieves were armed also. Again they evaded him and escaped in the fog. Scotland Yard sent Tillizinni to interview the captain at the London docks, and he found him an average type of British seaman, kindly and communicative. “The rum thing is,” he explained, “that there was no money in the safe--not so much as a brass farthing.” “What did the safe contain?” asked Tillizinni. He took up a sheet of paper from his desk and read: “Ship’s papers in envelope--confidential report on the working of the new condenser--and a green mailbag,” he said. Tillizinni was interested. “Green mailbag?” The captain nodded. “That’s the Ambassador’s bag and is brought from the Court of Pekin to the ship by special messenger, and taken from me in London by a man from the Embassy.” “You see,” he explained, “the Chinese Government always sends its mails like that--its Embassy mails, I mean. I bring ’em every trip. They don’t trust the Embassy despatches over the Trans-Siberian Railway. They think that the Russians go through ’em.” “I see,” said Tillizinni. It was very clear what the objective had been. The green mailbag offered an irresistible temptation to somebody who knew its contents. “There was nothing else?” He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. There was little to do save to continue inquiries at the Chinese Embassy. Here, however, Tillizinni met with a check. A letter from the Embassy informed him that nothing of the slightest importance was contained in the bag. The letter continued: