I waited a good long while, six weeks, to be exact, until I felt sure that Allison’s survivor’s leave would be a thing of the past, and then I sallied out and bought the current Navy List. I’ve said it all happened long before the War, when those who took an interest in the movements of naval officers could satisfy their thirst in the leaves of the Blue journal. Nowadays these things are altered, and the Navy List, which grows and increases monthly, is kept locked up with the other secret books in the confidential safe. In its mystic pages I found what I wanted. John Hugh Allison (Lieut.) was ‘for command of Submarine “90” (building).’ I knew what that meant. He’d had his leave all right and been appointed to a new boat, as yet uncompleted, and was standing by to superintend the work of the dockyard, and to take her to sea as captain when she was finished. I thought a while and concocted a piece of villainy. Then I sent the following telegram: ‘Commanding Officer, H.M. Submarine “90.” Congratulate you on your promotion. When may I come and marvel?’ He fell into the trap (did I say that the telegram was reply paid?), and sent the cryptic answer: ‘Many thanks. Come Monday, and be damned.’ The telegram was handed in at Portsmouth, so I knew at once at what yard the boat was being built, and Monday morning saw me hustling down from London full of my fell intentions. I knew I shouldn’t get into the yard even in peace time, so I hung round outside till a villain in a working rig appeared carrying a coil of wire. He bore on his cap-ribbon the legend ‘H.M. Submarines,’ and I marked him from afar. It appeared that the ‘Captain’ was living at the Royal Arms Hotel, and thither I hied me and demanded that he be produced. He wasn’t in. He was still down in the mystic dockyard and wouldn’t be back till lunch, so I made myself comfortable in a corner of the smoking-room and awaited what the gods might give. In due course the gift appeared, in a ragged uniform, and wearing a harassed expression. On seeing me he uttered a roar of appreciation (he was quite twenty-five), and caused drinks to be produced with the celerity of a conjuror. Then we lunched and discussed many things, from cocoa to spots under the sun, but never once did I refer to the subject that was in my mind; but after the meal was over I asked him how he liked his new boat and what he thought of her. ‘Oh, not so dusty for a first command; you wouldn’t like to see over her, would you?’ He eyed me tentatively. ‘Rather a long way to the dockyard, isn’t it?’ I hazarded. ‘Oh, be a sport,’ he continued. ‘I’d like you to see her, you know. You’re the first civilian to come and see me here.’ ‘All right,’ I agreed, ‘I’ll come, but don’t be too long-winded over it.’