Two or three times he had been able to call to his fellows back home, during the noon hour. Doubtless he could have talked with them every night, if he had had access to his wireless then. But this was the very first time that he had heard anybody call him. It gave him a strange feeling. Quickly he flashed out his answer. “KWC—KWC—KWC de CBM—I—I—I.” (Ward liner, _Morro Castle_, Willie Brown answering. Go ahead.) “This is Reynolds,” came the message. “Been trying all the morning to get you.” “Where are you?” flashed back Willie. “Off the Jersey coast, about opposite the Hook.” “When will you dock?” “This afternoon. Come see me this evening.” “Thanks,” flashed back Willie. “I will. Where is the _Lycoming_?” “She ought to be in by morning. She’s a few hours behind us.” “I’ll be over to see you this evening. I must get to work now. Good-bye.” “Good-bye,” came the answer, and Willie resumed his thankless task. But his heart was lighter. He would have a friend to talk to that evening. The word friend had become very precious to Willie. Persistently he continued his search through the ether, until the evening whistles warned him that he would have to get out of the building promptly, if he did not want to be locked in. He put on his cap, walked rapidly down the corridor, and got a bite to eat at a near-by quick lunch counter. Then he went for a little walk in Battery Park. At half-past seven he started for the Ward line piers. The _Morro Castle_ was docked, and all was quiet aboard her. Willie gained admission to the pier and sought out Mr. Reynolds in the wireless cabin. “Hello!” cried the wireless man, jumping up and grasping Willie’s hand warmly. “How goes it? How are you getting on in the customs service?” A cloud came over Willie’s face. “I oughtn’t to bother you with my troubles,” he said, “but it has been pretty hard to stand up under them, for I hadn’t a friend in the city to talk it over with.” “Trouble?” said Reynolds, sympathetically. “What’s gone wrong?” “Some valuable papers disappeared, and they think I took them.” The wireless man opened his eyes wide. “The dickens!” he said. “Tell me about it. Why do they think you took the papers?” “It’s this way. You know I rigged up my wireless in the office to send orders for the Chief. But I am not supposed to use the outfit for myself except in my own time; that is, during the noon hour or after office hours. It was while I was in the wireless room during the noon hour that the papers disappeared.” “That’s plain enough,” said Mr. Reynolds. “Why don’t you explain it to them?” “I have, but the trouble is that I am the only person known to have been in the office during that time, and I have no way to prove I spent it in the wireless room. There isn’t a soul who saw me come in or go out.” “The dickens! That is a fix. Isn’t there any way that you could prove you were there?”