"Glorious news!" exclaimed the Commissioner. "Bless my soul, what possessed them to dump the stuff in a miserable backwater in Portuguese territory?" "That's for you to say, sir," replied Mostyn. "I took in the wireless message when we were a few hours out from Durban. It came from the Company's agent, and obviously must have emanated from here." "Obviously fiddlesticks!" interrupted the Director of Contracts. "If it had I would have been responsible for it. Fire away, let's have the whole yarn." For the best part of an hour Mostyn kept his listeners deeply engrossed. The Commissioner completely forgot that there was a meal waiting for him. Here was an enthralling narrative with an unsolved mystery attached. "Have you any available funds, Mr. Mostyn," he demanded bluntly, when Peter had brought his story to a close. "Precious little, sir." "Then let me make an offer. If you accept you will be rendering a public service and doing your father's firm a thundering good turn. You are in no immediate hurry, I take it, to be sent home?" Peter thought not. "Good," continued the Commissioner. "In that case you can act as representative to the Brocklington Ironworks Company, and deliver the goods before the contract date. You've a good sixteen days clear. I'll give you a credit note for a thousand pounds, and you can make your arrangements for chartering a vessel to bring the consignment round from Bulonga. As a matter of fact there's the _Quilboma_ lying in harbour at the present time, waiting for cargo. She'd do admirably, and you can get quite reasonable terms. Once the jolly old stuff is planked down on the wharf here your father's firm has carried out its obligation, you know." It did not take long for Peter to accept the offer. He metaphorically jumped at it. "Right-o," said the Commissioner, as he dismissed his newly accredited agent of the Brocklington Ironworks Company. "Get a move on. Over you go and the best of luck." Still feeling considerably mystified, Mostyn left the building. Outside he parted with Comyn, the latter impressing on him that he would be only too pleased to be of assistance to him in any matter and at any time during his stay at Pangawani. Peter went to the post office a second time. Again he cabled to his father, but with a reckless disregard of the money he was putting into the cable company's exchequer. He did not even wait to put the message into code, but stated that the consignment of steel-work had not been lost in the _West Barbican_, but had been landed at Bulonga. He proposed chartering a tramp and bringing the consignment to Pangawani. "That'll buck the governor up, I reckon," he soliloquized, as he handed in the cablegram. His next move was to interview the master of the S.S. _Quilboma_, who, as luck would have it, was also part owner, and being badly in want of a cargo agreed to undertake the run to Bulonga and back at a very reasonable figure.